


to feel your heart as it's keeping time

by wearecities (falsetto)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Binge Drinking, Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Pathetic attempt at angst, Rainbow cake, Riding, Side: Niall/Louis, Side: Perrie/Zayn, Too Much Flour, Wine wine lots of wine, lots of ot5 cuddling, too much ot5 cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsetto/pseuds/wearecities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s light outside by the time Harry shakes flour from his hair, wiping some off the tip of his nose with the edge of his apron. The clock over the door reads eight twenty-seven and Harry takes one last sweeping glance of the kitchen, wipes his hands on his jeans before going to open the doors of The Rolling Scones.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harry owns a bakery, Niall and Louis are sickeningly in love, Zayn hates clip-art and Liam’s the only one that laughs at Harry’s jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to feel your heart as it's keeping time

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest, biggest thanks to Ina for hand holding and listening to my whining and also everyone on twitter who yelled at me. Also to thaaaaaanks to [Maggie](http://http://carissimali.tumblr.com/) for the amazing beta and dealing w my awful grammar!!
> 
> Warning to say this is the single most self-indulgent thing I've ever written and if it were truly named properly it would be titled 'bakery!!! puns!!! kissing!!!!!!!!!!'. **Also, cis-girl!Louis is a thing if that's not something you're in to.**

Harry wakes up at ten to six, rain pattering quietly on the window. The covers are half-thrown off the bed and the early morning chill bites at his bare legs as he struggles to pull himself up.

Even though he’s barely awake, it’s routine now; drilled into his muscles to get showered, get dressed, down his coffee in four quick scolding gulps before pushing outside, bundled up in three different layers to brave the cold.

It’s still dark outside, the few cars on the road illuminating the damp streets ahead of Harry as he steers his bike around the winding country roads, nose buried in his jumper and hair curling wet against his forehead. 

Fingers stiff from the twenty minute ride, it takes Harry a while longer than normal to find the right key and push it into the lock, teeth chattering as he kicks the bottom left of the door to force it open. 

The bakery is always a little spooky in the early morning dark and Harry flips on all the lights before starting up the ovens, stepping into the front of the shop to start setting up the chairs before he heads back into the kitchen to start on the morning orders.

It’s light outside by the time Harry shakes flour from his hair, wiping some off the tip of his nose with the edge of his apron. The clock over the door reads eight twenty-seven and Harry takes one last sweeping glance of the kitchen, wipes his hands on his jeans before going to open the doors of ‘ _ _The Rolling Scones__.’

 

\--

 

The lunch rush is all gone when Niall gets in, red nosed and shivering but still firmly believing they’re in summer, donning a snapback and sunglasses, probably hiding a stretched out threadbare vest under his coat. Harry pops his head out from the kitchen where he’s letting a fresh batch of today’s special, _Tommo’s Tea Cakes_ , cool down.

“Alright?” Harry calls out, just as Niall hops over the counter and grabs his apron.

“How’s it going Mary Berry?” Niall answers but it’s clear he’s only appeasing Harry while Louis finishes serving the mum and daughter at the counter; she’s pulling faces at Tiny Baby Blue Eyes strapped into the pushchair while the mum counts her change. 

She’s got her hair pulled back in a ponytail and it’s swinging as she moves around behind the counter, the sleeves of her threadbare t-shirt are rolled up and the bottom of her skin tight jeans are tucked into her socks.

Harry already knows Louis’ probably slipped an extra gingerbread man into their order free of charge but Harry’s just as much of a sucker as she is, having ended up putting nearly the whole jar of mini marshmallows in a little boy’s hot chocolate this morning. 

“Surprisingly busy,” Harry answers, eyes half watching the timer for the next batch of rainbow cookies. “That office down the road sold us out again.” 

Niall grins. “Told you those free samples helped.” 

“Probably would’ve been better if you didn’t eat most of them on the trip over,” Harry says. Niall’s been trying to help business pick up by infiltrating local shops and shoving baked goods in their faces. It’s actually working pretty well.

“S’your own fault, Haz, shouldn’t make ‘em so bloody delicious.” Niall emphasises it by grabbing a Bakewell slice out from the front case, taking an overenthusiastic bite out of it. 

Just as Harry goes to scold him, the mother and daughter leave with their treats and Niall jumps on the new opportunity, sliding across the linoleum floor and straight into Louis’ space.

“Hello,” Niall sings to the tune of an unwritten broadway number, crumbs spraying everywhere. “Hello, hello, hello.” 

Louis takes her time counting the change, dropping every penny slowly into it’s individual spot before she turns around, making wide eyes at Niall like she's only just noticed he was there. 

"Fancy seeing you here," she says, a smirk caught in the corner of her lips. 

Even though Niall's been delivered this line pretty much every shift they've worked together he still cackles as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard, looping his arm around Louis' waist and pulling her in. He doesn’t wait for a proper reply before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. 

“You taste like marzipan.” Louis grimaces, licking her lips after Niall pulls away.

“Had steak and ale pie for lunch so at least it’s not that.” Niall reasons and Harry leans his hip against the door frame, crossing his arms. 

Niall still hasn’t let go of Louis, eyes trained on her pulling increasingly disgusting faces as he turns his head towards Harry. “You need any help in there or are you good?” 

“No, s’alright,” Harry says with a shake of his head which usually results in a cloud of icing sugar and sprinkles on a tough day. "Continue making my customers lose their appetites, it's fine."

"Sick." Niall cheers, dipping a squawking Louis by the waist and ignoring her protests in favour of kissing her properly. 

The timer goes off just as Louis manages to flip them around and get Niall in a headlock so Harry leaves them to it, ducking back into the kitchen.

 

\--

 

It’s an hour before closing, the minutes slowly ticking away as Zayn bursts through the door in a flurry of cold air and disconcerting beauty. He’s all zipped up in a thick aviator jacket, woollen scarf and frayed fingerless gloves, leather satchel swinging behind him as he makes for his favourite plush sofa nearer the back of the shop, flopping down gracefully. 

“Tough day at school?” Harry asks once he’s grabbed Zayn’s favourite order, bitter black coffee and an iced doughnut the size of his head. Zayn smiles at him, appreciative, but there isn’t time for an answer with the way he’s inhaling the coffee, warming up the exposed tips of his fingers by wrapping them around the cup.

“Mmmph,” Zayn starts after he sets the coffee down and starts sifting through his bag, pulling out a half shattered pencil and his smallest sketchbook. “It’s just a lot. Haven’t even started my final piece yet because I haven’t done enough preparatory work.”

“Is that the-- the thing with the glass? And the trolls?” Harry plops down on the armchair across from him, wiping his hands on his apron. Niall and Louis are probably getting off out back because Harry’s an idiot for letting them take out the bins together, but it’s quiet. There’s just a little old lady and her granddaughter dining on tea and buttered scones at a window table and a lone Tesco cashier next to them on her break. 

“S’little bit more than just glass and trolls,” Zayn huffs, pulling that face he pulls whenever Niall tries to stab things with chopsticks instead of using them properly. “But yeah, that one. Maria keeps going on about feelings, like I haven’t been told about evoking emotion since the day I started uni,” He pulls another increasingly annoyed face face. “It makes me _feel_ like seeing how you _feel_ after I put my face through the canvas.”

“Pretty sure I saw a piece like that when you dragged me to the Tate.” Harry grins. 

“Don’t,” Zayn warns and Harry sticks his tongue out, dodging out the way when Zayn goes to grab for it with two fingers. “D’ya need me to wait ‘til you’re finished today?” 

“Nah, remembered my key today di’nt I?” Harry says, although he’s glad Zayn asked-- forgetting his key is an unfortunately regular thing.

Harry’s infinitely grateful that the local uni’s accommodation was oversubscribed and Zayn had to ring him up a week before term started, a frantic reply to an online ad for a flatmate to share a ‘ _cosy two bedroom flat_.’ Cosy was a generous description, really, but it’s big enough for him and Zayn to cohabit.

“The monkey learns!” Zayn crows, clapping his hands and Harry kicks his feet off the coffee table.

 

\--

 

Harry’s been working at the bakery longer than he’s owned it, longer than he can really recall, what with his Great Aunt Jenny letting him lick the mixing spoon clean and settling him on her hip so he could reach over the counter and drop change into a cooing customers hand. There’s pictures up in the staff room of them together, Harry with sprinkles all over his face and Jenny with the biggest, sweetest grin on her face. 

It was two weeks after the funeral that Harry learned he’d inherited it. Jenny hadn’t any children of her own, no-one to take on the business she’d built up with her husband who had passed away years before. Harry loved her, treated her like a second mum-- most of his summers were spent learning the proper way to fluff up batter and the _only_ way to make meringues. So, when he was sat in front of the contract, with his mum’s hand in his telling him it was ‘ _a big responsibility, there are other options_ ,’ there was no way he was going to turn it down.

It’s where he met Louis for the first time, thirteen years to her fifteen, tiny and bright and energetic as she had dragged Lottie through the door, ordered as much as she could with her pocket money and declared Harry her best friend all in one breath. They’d both met Niall there too, the winter after Harry took on the place when employees were dropping like flies because they didn’t trust a barely-twenty-year-old with their income. Niall had just started teaching guitar at the local college and had seen the ‘ _Help Needed_ ’ sign in the window, he’d won Harry over immediately and then Louis not two seconds after that. 

He’d kissed his first girl there too, after baking her embarrassingly wonky heart shaped biscuits. And then his first boy, tentative and nervous, hiding under the awning from the rain. 

Although it still needs refurbishing and six coats of fresh paint and if it’s been raining for a few days then the ceiling leaks, it’s everything to him. Even with the ridiculous name, which has ultimately made his mum adamant that he inherited his sense of humour from Aunt Jenny. 

He’d dropped thoughts of travelling and university and moving to the most artsy parts of London to sip coffee and contemplate life for this, to make Jenny proud and even though there’s a worrying stack of bills and a hundred repairs, he’s determined to make it work.

 

\--

 

Sunday’s are always quiet. It’s been a steady drizzle outside all day, barely anyone leaving the safety of their toasty homes to venture out for millionaire shortbread and a chocolate eclair. It’s understandable; Harry’s been watching the clock for the past fifteen minutes hoping that it jumps from half three to four o’clock. 

Without Louis quietly humming as she reads her comics or Niall humming the same tune as he watches her read her comics, time’s passing painfully slow. Harry would even take Zayn dozing on the sofa as company at this point. 

The bell over the door rings and Harry pulls himself away from where he’s been blowing condensation on the glass counter, straightening up and trying to subtly rub off the smeared face print he’s left. 

“Hiya,” Harry greets as the customer shakes out his umbrella on the front step, leaving it propped up against the wall. “Welcome to _The Rolling Scones_ , how can I help?” 

Pushing back his damp hair, the guy grins, glances at the array of treats before looking back up at Harry. “Have you caught them yet?” 

Harry pauses, blinks and blinks again.

“Your scones, you said they were rolling,” he says, seeming a little flushed when he gets it out and Harry can’t help the laugh bursting out of him, his hands flying up to cover his mouth. “That was pretty awful, sorry.” 

“No, no. It was good, m’just surprised,” Harry grins, taps his fingers against the counter. “Told someone the other day that ‘ _You Can’t Always Get What You Want_ ’ when we ran out of iced buns. They asked for the manager.” 

The guy laughs. He’s got a nice smile, pushes up the apples of his cheeks and crinkles his eyes. 

“What did the manager say?” he asks.

“I _am_ the manager,” Harry answers, liking the look of surprise it puts on his face. “I congratulated myself on the great joke and went about my day.” The guy laughs again and he really does have a lovely smile, framed by incredibly well trimmed stubble.

“Well, I hope your muffins are as good as your wit.” 

“I don’t want to brag but,” Harry trails off, he’s cocked his hip without realising and his smile has turned into an easy smirk. He hasn’t flirted in ages, the last person was the nice Scottish lady from British Gas when he was trying to not get a bollocking for an overdue bill. 

Harry straightens up and tucks a flyaway hair behind his ear. 

“I’m Liam, by the way. I work just down the road, missed out on the free cupcakes the other day but the rest won’t shut up about them,” Liam explains as he’s eyeing up a double chocolate muffin. There’s not much left on the shelves as Harry doesn’t tend to restock on Sundays because there’s so few customers, half of it gets taken home on the back of his bike for Zayn’s midnight binges. 

“Well, I’m out of cupcakes but the chocolate muffins are a favourite,” Harry suggests.

“I’ll take them,” Liam grins. When Harry picks out the biggest out of the three left, placing it in a paper bag, Liam interjects, “I mean, I’ll take all of them.” 

Liam’s wearing a suit. It looks designer, _expensive_ , there’s not even a speck of dust on it and every strand of his beard is probably the exact same length. Harry’s finding it hard to imagine him curled on the sofa at home scoffing down three giant double chocolate muffins. He bags them anyway after a moment, sliding them on the counter.

“My sweet tooth will be my downfall,” Liam says, looking solemn. Harry clucks his tongue in feigned sympathy. “I guess yours will be not giving your name out to regulars.” 

“Hm?” Harry questions.

“You haven’t told me your name,” Liam starts. “As a potential regular, it could be seen as rude.” 

“Well,” Harry taps his fingers against the counter thoughtfully. “I’ll have to ask my manager.” 

“Guess I’ll be back next week then,” Liam drops some money on the counter, “see if I can finally try one of those famous cupcakes. Maybe have a word with that manager of yours too.” 

Liam turns around before Harry can really respond, bag tucked under his suit jacket as he grabs his umbrella and leaves the shop, disappearing back into the drizzly Sunday evening.

Feeling a little dazed, Harry rubs a hand over his face and gets ready to go back to napping on the counter. Except, there’s a crisp fifty pound note spread out on his pillow spot. He frowns, holding it up to the light and yes, it’s definitely real, the Queen’s subdued face staring back down at him. 

It was probably a mistake; Liam seemed like he was in a bit of a rush. Harry doesn’t even have enough money in the till to give that amount of change and he doesn’t really know in what world three muffins would cost fifty pounds. 

Keeping it at arms length as if it’ll explode at any second, he tucks it in a drawer for safekeeping, a silent hope that Liam will come back again so Harry can return it. 

 

\-- 

 

“How was work?” Zayn asks as soon as Harry shuffles through to the living room, shivering from the five mile bike home. 

They decided to not be so tight on using the heating so the house is toasty warm and Harry strips out of his damp clothes right there in the doorway, left in only his boxers when he kicks the rest of his clothes to the side. Zayn’s taking up their only sofa, laid out with some Sunday movie marathon playing quietly on the telly.

“It was good. Weird, but good. The flower lady came in again, then the other flower lady. You know, the tall one. With the-- the hair, you know? She made a joke but I can’t remember it now, it was really funny though, made me laugh. And then Bria--” 

“Harry, Haz,” Zayn groans and Harry looks up from where he’s inspecting an apple. It’s a little bit squishy.

“Sorry, sorry.” Harry apologises, putting the apple back in the bowl. Instead of sprawling out on the floor, the only other seating in the room, he flops down on top of Zayn because he deserves it after complaining about Harry’s storytelling.

“You could at least dry your hair,” Zayn huffs, pulling at a strand and Harry shakes his head with a whine, burying his nose in Zayn’s neck. 

“‘m too tired. So, so tired,” Harry says and Zayn clucks his tongue, pulling his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, soothing instead of trying to annoy him. “This guy came in, though. Works at the offices down the road, pretty sure his suit cost more than our rent, looked good on him. Then he ate all my muffins.” 

“Is that a euphemism?” Zayn snorts, but he sounds vaguely interested now. 

“My muffins are untouched,” Harry reassures him. It’s been months and he doesn’t really want to talk about his muffins, especially lying on top of Zayn with Zayn scratching at Harry’s scalp _just right_. There’s no time for muffin touching what with the stack of unpaid bills on his bedroom desk and the endless repairs the bakery needs.

“Do you want him to touch your muffins?” Zayn asks

“I dunno, he was fit. In like the Ryan Gosling ‘ _Eat, Pray, Love_ ’ kinda way,” Harry answers. “Anyway, he’s was just a customer so I don’t know, can we stop talking about baked goods, please? I don’t want to look at another pastry until I have to.” Harry groans. Niall’s doing the morning shift and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Okay.” Zayn agrees with a hum, he’s dabbing at Harry’s damp hair with one of their lumpy pillows now. Harry has neither the energy or the will to move, he just rests his head more comfortably on Zayn’s chest and shuts his eyes.

 

\--

 

Wednesday brings the daily special of _Horan’s Hot Cross Buns_ and Horan himself sat up on the counter, Louis between his legs as he tries to plait her hair. It’s turning more into a mess of knots but Louis doesn’t seem to mind and just pinches Niall every time he tugs too hard. 

“So,” Louis begins, pinching Niall’s knee again. “December is upon us.” 

Harry’s heard this speech a few dozen times, ever since he started working at _The Rolling Scones_ over summer holidays and Louis declared them best buddies. As it turns out, being best buddies comes with a week-long celebration of the birth of Louis Tomlinson. 

“So it is,” Harry agrees, tying the front of his hair up in the world’s smallest ponytail. Louis grimaces-- she hates it, which makes Harry do it more. He’s secretly contemplating learning how to french plait, just to see Louis’ look of horror. “How time flies when you’re up to your waist in debt.” 

Louis makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat and Harry waves his hand at her. He doesn’t mean to be a downer but he’s spent half the morning trying to decipher the cryptic code of taxes and he can’t afford an accountant this time around. He has yet to tell the rest of them that and he intends to keep it that way. They worry too much.

“December is upon us,” she starts again, giving Harry a pointed look, “and that only means the most important day of the year. And if either of you say Christmas I’ll hit you.” 

“You know I’m going to mum’s then.” Harry sighs, he really can’t afford to go home for a week as it means shutting the bakery, but Gemma might actually kill him if he backs out of it again. 

“Yes, which is why I’m moving the festivities to the week before--” Harry goes to interrupt but Louis lifts her hand to stop him. “It’s not just for you, Haz. I’ll probably have to spend the day with family anyway and mum’s working on Christmas so I have to look after the gremlins. It just works out.” 

Louis has approximately thirty four younger sisters and when she’s not working at the bakery or the pub or that one weird summer where she thought dog grooming was her calling in life, she’s playing babysitter. 

“Was thinking we could start at the pub,” she says and since Niall’s finished destroying her hair, he has his arms over her shoulders and his chin resting on her head. They look like the world’s cutest totem pole. “And then move on to the next pub, then Ivory, you know that new club? Then family-sized chicken meals for all before we pass out in various public places.” 

“Sounds sick.” Niall grins, ducks down to press a smacking kiss to Louis’ cheek. 

“What’s that?” The bell over the front door goes and Zayn’s sauntered in, just catching the end of the conversation. Harry turns around to start the coffee maker.

“Louis Day plans,” Niall explains and Zayn pulls a slightly terrified face. The last Louis Day extravaganza had Zayn disappearing on the two minute walk between the second pub and the next club, not turning up until eight in the morning, when Harry was trying to fry thirteen slices of bacon and three eggs-- shells included-- at the same time. 

“Is it alright if I bring Perrie?” Zayn asks, dropping a couple coins in the charity box next to the till once Harry passes over his coffee. Harry never lets him pay. 

“Yes, God yes,” Louis says, almost pleading. “I spend way too much time with you boys.’” 

“Oh no. No, no, no. I don’t want to be the lone single.” Harry shakes his head, frowning. As much as he loves being a weird attachment to Niall and Louis’ relationship, even a frequent extra to Zayn and Perrie’s blossoming thing, when everyone’s a little more than tipsy and sneaking off into corners and leaving Harry by himself, it’s not that great. 

“You won’t be! Leigh and Jade are coming too-- actually, I think they’re together now,” Louis frowns. “Aiden said he’ll pop by later, but he’ll probably bring Matt. Jesy! Has a boyfriend oh. Uhm.” 

“You should invite Muffin Man,” Zayn offers through a bite of his iced doughnut. 

“Who’s Muffin Man?” Niall asks and Harry refrains from quoting Shrek because he’s already been yelled at today for his jokes. He’ll save them for somewhere he’s fully appreciated. 

“Just this customer-- Liam. He came in the other day, took three muffins, left fifty quid then disappeared.” The money’s still tucked away in the drawer because Harry doesn’t really know what to do with it. 

“Curious,” Louis drawls out. Niall’s pushed all of Louis’ hair forward over her chin so it looks like a long, ombre beard and Louis strokes at it, pulling a face of deep concentration before she claps her hands together. “Sorted then, anyone who’s dropping cash all willy nilly is welcome to join Louis Day celebrations.” 

“I didn’t--” Harry tries to protest but, with impeccable timing, a group of secondary school kids barge through the front door. Zayn pulls Louis away to take over his favourite corner, despite the fact she’s still working, and Niall hops down to serve the gaggle of teens and Harry’s left with his protest meeting deaf ears.

 

\--

 

Harry’s one hundred per cent adamant that he’s not inviting Liam. For one, it’s weird and although Harry is the definition of strange behaviour, even this seems a tad overboard. And secondly, they’ve literally met once. Yes, Harry did appreciate Liam’s suit, his well kept-beard and his pun execution but he’s still not doing it. 

Except, Liam comes in more and more and he’s lovely and sweet and actually, genuinely laughs at Harry’s jokes. It’s killing him slightly, so much so that he forgets to bring up the abandoned fifty pound note but makes sure to stall Liam long enough to give him exact change.

Harry learns that despite the differences in their ability to grow facial hair-- Harry had made a futile attempt a few months ago and the result was pathetic bum fluff on his chin and Zayn laughing so hard he nearly popped a blood vessel-- Liam’s not that much older than him, he was relocated here for work a few months ago, he likes his tea with approximately twenty five spoons of sugar, his eyes nearly disappear when he laughs and if he was invisible for a day he’d sneak into Jay-Z’s house and steal a pair of socks. 

Liam comes in on another Sunday, earlier on in the day when Harry’s not losing the will to live and it’s sunny outside, Liam has his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder to accommodate for it. Harry’s never seen him without it on and he wishes he could go back to those times-- a much simpler time, when there weren’t tattoos and biceps involved.

“Why’d you even open on Sunday if it’s so dead?” Liam asks, once he’s got his too sweet tea and a strawberry tart. He’d said he was going for the healthier option and Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him how much sugar is in it. 

“Don’t really have the money not to,” Harry sighs, leaning against the counter. He’s had three customers today and one of them just came in to ask if they could use the loo. “We’ve been struggling recently.” 

“Oh yeah, Louis mentioned,” Liam says and then almost does a double take.

“You talked to Louis?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. Liam usually comes in when it’s just Harry working and Louis hadn’t mentioned meeting the elusive Muffin Man yet. She probably said something awfully embarrassing and Harry’s going to have to cut her hair off in her sleep.

“I, uh,” Liam starts, picking crumbs off the edge his tart, “I came in the other day, I was in a rush and you were in the kitchen. She served me.” 

Harry narrows his eyes some more until they’re pretty much closed, Liam a darkened blur. Louis definitely said something horrifically embarrassing. She’s going to have a pixie cut starting next week.

“Well whatever she said she’s a filthy liar. Unless it was in my favour, then she is a goddess,” Harry says.

“She didn’t say anything bad, don’t worry,” Liam placates but Harry’s not completely sold, he’ll keep the scissors in the drawer for now though. Liam takes a sip of his tea before he continues, “any plans for Christmas?” 

“Home for a couple of days, haven’t seen mum or my sister in ages,” Harry answers, deciding to look past Liam’s change of subject. Liam smiles, nodding and Harry doesn’t register the words that are coming out of his mouth before he says, “actually, speaking of Louis, she’s having an early birthday pub crawl next Friday, you should come.” 

“Yeah?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“She said I should invite you,” Harry pauses. “Well, actually she told me to invite the Muffin Man.” And ... that maybe should’ve stayed as an internal thought.

“The Muffin Man?” Liam repeats, lips starting to turn up in a smile.

“The Muffin Man.” Harry nods.

“Who lives on Drury Lane?” Liam continues and Harry’s fucked. A hundred and thirteen per cent gone for. He tries to keep a straight face, clamps his lips shut to try and stifle the laugh but it erupts in the single most disgusting snort and Liam breaks too, holding on to the counter as he laughs. 

“Idiot,” Harry teases, once he’s managed to catch his breath, shaking his head at Liam.

“ _You’re_ an idiot.” Liam frowns but it only lasts half a second before he’s grinning again. They might as well be on the primary school playground with Harry about to ask Liam if he wants to go play hopscotch. 

“Anyway,” Harry continues, steering the conversation back to it’s original point. “Pub crawl?”

“Sounds good, guess I should try to make some friends here,” Liam says. “Just let me give you my number and you can text me the details.” 

With complete and utter grace, Harry fumbles his phone out of the front pocket of his apron, drops it on the floor and then passes it over the counter. Liam slides his phone back over after a second and there he is in Harry’s contacts, saved as Liam with the surname filled with cookie emojis. 

“Now, tell me more about this Muffin Man,” Liam says and Harry groans, wondering if he hides under the counter for long enough Liam will just leave. 

\--

Harry didn’t realise how many of his clothes had holes in them until he tries to find ones without. To be fair, he hasn’t had to dress up properly for a long time and usually if they hit the town he’s too drunk to care. He shouldn’t really care tonight, it’s mostly just their close friends but, well, Liam had replied to his text with five smiley faces and ‘ _seeeeee u there!! muffin mannn x_.’ 

Making a noise of frustration, Harry drops the shirt he’s holding and refrains from throwing a toddler-esque tantrum.

“Zayn!” Harry yells, flopping back onto his bed, limbs spread. “Zaaaayn!” 

There’s a shuffle down the hallway and then footsteps, Harry’s bedroom door creaking open. Pulling his arm away from where it’s covering his face, Harry lifts his head up and squints towards the doorway.

“You’re not Zayn,” Harry frowns. He’s only in his boxers and if he had any decency he would try to cover up, but he doesn’t. 

“No,” Perrie says, leaning her hip against the door frame. “But I’m better. What’s up?” 

Harry rolls onto his stomach, burying his head in his arms. She’s right though, she is better-- Zayn would have hit him by now. 

“I dmmph huff anybrmm t waar,” Harry tries.

“What was that, honey? I don’t speak mopey.” Perrie says and Harry’s not so sure about the whole her not hitting him thing. He sighs again and rolls back onto his side, looking at her.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Harry repeats, now that he doesn’t have a mouthful of his duvet. If Perrie’s going to laugh, she hides it very well and just scans the mess of Harry’s clothes. 

“Right,” she says and kicks at a stray sock before stepping back into the hallway, “one sec.” 

By the time she comes back in the room, Harry’s decided to sit up and not try to suffocate himself with his bed linen like an actual well-functioning human being. In return, Perrie throws a top at his face.

“Wear that, buttons undone, with your jeans,” she says and he picks up the top from where it’s fallen into his lap; it’s just plain white and long sleeved. Harry’s pretty sure she picked it up from Zayn’s room and he distinctly remembers buying this months ago.

“Which jeans?” Harry asks, starting to pull the top on. 

“You own more than one pair?” Perrie snorts, leaning her hip against the door frame and crossing her arms well, no, Harry doesn’t. There’s some yellow skinnies at the back of his wardrobe he bought for Halloween one time but tonight is not the night to dress up like a banana. “Just pop that on, jeans, one of your vampire coats, whichever of your shoes still have soles and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks Pez.” Harry says, mostly sincere, shaking out his hair after pulling the top over his head. 

“No problem, pet, I’ve already had to dress Zayn,” she confides and Harry laughs, pulling his collar into place. “What’s this about, anyway? Last time we went out, I distinctly remember you wearing something mesh and pulling as soon as you ordered a drink.” 

“It’s not like that,” Harry says although he doesn’t really know what it’s like. “Just want to look nice for Louis, she’s always telling me off.” 

“Mhm okay,” Perrie nods, sounding completely unconvinced. “Well, we’re leaving in about twenty mins, meeting the girls by Tesco.”

“Cool, just need to brush my teeth then I’m ready.” Harry pushes himself off the bed and goes in search of his one pair of jeans. Perrie pauses in the doorway for a second, face turning all soft and mushy like she’s his mum seeing him off for prom before she nods, disappearing back down the hallway. 

Harry’s friends are all really awful.

\--

They continue to be just as awful because by the time that Harry gets a text from Liam saying that he’s nearly there, running late because of traffic, Harry’s already halfway past tipsy. The thought of pacing himself had been thrown out the grotty pub window when Louis, donning a birthday tiara covered in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stickers, passed Harry two shots and a smacking, bright red lipstick kiss to the forehead. 

“Whoss’at?” Zayn asks, only slightly slurring his words. He received the shot and kiss treatment too, a perfectly shaped lipstick stain on his cheek. 

“Liam,” Harry answers, squinting to stop the letters blurring together. “He’s on his way.” 

“Liam’s coming!” Niall cheers, slamming his pint down on the table and the whole table cheers back. Harry narrows his eyes.

“Stooop,” Harry drags out, trying to smack Louis’ hands away where she’s leaning across the table to pinch his cheeks. She’s unfortunately much stronger than he is though. “He said he doesn’t know many people here so please don’t scare him.” 

“If anyone was going to scare him off, it would’ve been you Harry, so I think we’re safe.” Jesy snorts from across the table and Zayn laughs, hooking his arm around Harry’s neck to pull him closer.

“You know, like, the world. It’s quite big, isn’t it? I mean, there’s a lot of roads. And pavements. Roads and pavements. Maybe I should call my band that.” Zayn drones, completely monotone and it takes a second for Harry to realise Zayn’s taking the piss out of him. 

“Yeah and, like. But if you look from space, the world is quite small. Compared to, like, jupiter and saturn and that. Maybe to aliens, we’re like ants. You know?” Leigh Anne joins in, voice just the same tone and pace, Jade giggling into her shoulder and this is completely unfair, they’re completely unfair. 

“You’re being unfair,” Harry grumbles and he definitely doesn’t try to pitch his voice higher and speak faster to prove them wrong. 

“You know we love you.” Niall grins, although his cheeks are flushed red from laughing. 

“You’re a pal,” they all chorus and this is ridiculous, they’ve definitely rehearsed this and Harry’s going to poison all their free biscuits his next shift. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the only way.

“‘M gunna get a drink,” Harry mumbles, saving himself from continued torture as he slides out of the booth, ignoring their droning apologies. 

The pub’s pretty empty, not late enough in the evening for the local students to be making their stumbling appearance, so it’s not hard for Liam to spot him when he comes through the door.

The first thing Harry notices is that it’s the first time he’s seen Liam not wearing a suit. The next thing Harry notices is that Liam’s dressed in a checkered shirt and tight, tight jeans, hanging halfway down his arse. Liam looks like a modern day lumberjack and Harry wants to lay himself out on his workbench. Maybe, _just_ maybe Harry doesn’t need this next drink.

“Hey!” Liam grins, pulling off his coat and draping it over his arm. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was murder.” 

“It’s alright, haven’t missed much,” Harry grins back, “just might need to catch up on the drinks. Louis’ determined to kill us all.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m a self-proclaimed lightweight so I’ll just have two WKD’s and that’s me done for the night.” Liam fishes his wallet out of his tight, tight jeans and Harry doesn’t stare. He adds that piece of information to the list though. _Liam: Incurable sweet tooth, wears suits extremely well, beard possibly trimmed every night by tiny woodland creatures, massive lightweight._

“Two WKD’s, really?” Harry snorts.

“Okay, slight exaggeration.” Liam winks. Well, Harry think he’s trying to wink, or maybe he has something in his eye. God, he can’t deal with this. “What’re you drinking? I’ll get this round.”

“It’s fine, I--”

“Just tell me or I’ll actually order you an alcopop,” Liam cuts him off and Harry doesn’t really want to mention that he doesn’t mind alcopops, especially the ones that turn his mouth blue. 

“JD and coke is fine,” Harry finally answers.

“What does Louis drink?” Liam asks, waving the bartender over. 

“Anything disgusting and vile,” Harry huffs, still not over their little group stint. 

Liam ends up ordering two Jack Daniels and coke, making them doubles which is probably a terrible idea for Harry, and a sickly orange coloured cocktail for Louis. Unfortunately, Harry discovers that it’s delicious when he steals a sip whilst Liam waits for his change, and not disgusting and vile as Harry specified.

Sliding into the booth first, Harry ends up half on Zayn’s lap trying to make a comfortable enough space for Liam. Zayn doesn’t seem to mind though as he just pats Harry’s legs and carries on talking to Perrie. 

“Happy early birthday Louis,” Liam says across the table and Louis grins back, accepting the drink he slides towards her. 

“Thanks Liam!” she exclaims, taking a small sip before making a tiny noise of pleasure and taking an even bigger sip.

“I got you something else too, hope it’s okay,” Liam continues and Harry must’ve been staring at Liam’s face too much to miss the giant sparkling pink gift bag in his hand.

It’s got a mass of curling silver ribbons attached to it, overflowing with white tissue paper and for all Liam’s good looks and ridiculous jokes, this is where it all ends, Harry thinks. He’s probably got Louis a subscription to Women’s Health and a ten pound Boots bath-set and Louis’ going to give him _that_ look, the one that Harry never, ever wants to be on the receiving end of.

“Liam, you shouldn’t have,” Louis says as she practically wrenches it out of his hand. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she pulls out the mass of tissue paper and goes head first into the bag. “Oh my god.” 

Pulling her head out of the bag, Louis gives Liam a shocked look and Liam just grins, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Harry mentioned it and I dunno, I hope it’s okay, right size and all.” Liam says, he’s blushing slightly and oh god, it’s even worse than Harry feared. Liam’s bought a partial stranger lingerie, lingerie that might not even fit and Harry’s really going to have to cut all ties. He’ll never find out what Liam’s beard feels like against his skin. 

But Louis just lets out a slightly strangled squeal, a noise that Harry’s never heard her make, before pulling the present out of the bag. She nearly knocks her drink over in the rush to pull it over her dress, zipping it all the way up. 

It’s an Iron Man hoodie, detail all over the front and the zip goes all the way over Louis’ face, leaving Iron Man’s mask staring back at everyone. Harry wants to cry with relief and also some other emotions he’s going to have to figure out at some point.

“So sick,” Louis yells, although it’s muffled, “cheers Liam!” She goes to clamber up in her seat to presumably thank Liam properly, but Niall grabs her around her waist, cackling and pulling her back down into his lap.

“Thank him properly later, Tommo,” Niall reasons, trying to get her to unzip the hoodie but Louis squirms away. “Think everyone wants their drinks unspilled.” 

“Here, here!” everyone who’s paying attention choruses, before downing their drinks. His friends are creepily in sync.

“Here, here.” Harry says, quieter to Liam and holds out his drink. Liam grins back, clinking their glasses together.

 

\--

 

Liam’s been completely stolen from him during the course of the night; Zayn pulling him away to ask him where he Louis’ present which turned into an extensive talk about comics, Niall asking Liam’s opinion on some football match that Harry will never watch and Louis trying to fit both herself and Liam inside her new hoodie. She refuses to take it off even though she probably spent a good chunk of her last pay on the dress underneath. 

Leigh and Jade must notice Harry’s grumpy face on the walk to the next pub because they each take a side, grabbing a hand each and proceed to swing his arms as they walk.

“Aw, pet,” Jade says, heels clacking against the pavement, “you can have your boy back soon, it’s good everyone’s getting along with him though.” 

“Yeah I’m surprised, Styles,” Leigh Anne continues, “usually your taste in men is awful but Liam’s quite the catch, proper fit too.” 

Liam’s just in front of them and Harry’s glad Louis, who’s clinging to Niall’s back, is distracting him, although every now and then they keep glancing back at Harry with this _look_ and it’s undoubtedly unfair. 

“Thanks?” Harry tries and Leigh just rolls her eyes with a grin, nudging Harry with her elbow. 

The next pub is much more crowded, the evening rush finally peaking and Harry hangs back as the others fight their way to the bar, with Jade and Leigh promising they’ll bring him a drink back. 

“Your friends are mental,” Harry hears from just behind him and he turns to see Liam smiling, pack of cigarettes in his hand. Harry pulls a face and Liam shakes his head before he continues, “it’s good, I like them.”

“You get used to it,” Harry nods, tucking his hands in his coat pockets and stepping closer because it’s hard to hear over the loud hustle and bustle of the crowd, “and then you come to a sudden realisation that you’re just as worrying as the rest of them.” 

Over in the corner, there’s a sudden cheer and Harry knows it’s them before he even looks over. Louis’ standing on a bar stool, chugging a whole pitcher of Purple Haze and the rest of them are chanting. Niall’s never looked so in love. Harry feels a little sorry for him because Niall will be responsible for the clean up when the cocktail inevitably comes back up later, but he’s not going to put a stop to it.

“Think I’m gonna head out for a cig,” Liam says, pulling Harry’s attention back. “You might wanna go save Louis before she drowns.” 

“She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” Harry says although he’s not too sure, she’s got Purple Haze all down her hoodie and dress and in her hair. “I’ll come with you, wouldn’t want you to get lost.” 

“My hero,” Liam grins and Harry nudges their shoulders together before making his way to the back exit.

There’s a quaint little beer garden round the back and it’s pretty much empty, understandably as it’s the middle of winter and the only people braving it are the smokers and the people too drunk to really care. Harry makes his way for an empty picnic bench at the back, right next to an outdoor heater, and he steps up onto the bench before sitting on the table, patting the spot next to him.

It’s quieter out here, calmer and the amount of alcohol Harry’s consumed finally catches up to him, his stomach swimming slightly and his mouth going dry. He takes a deep breath, digging his fingers into his thighs as the world tries to re-centre itself.

“Hey, you alright?” Liam asks, lighting up the cigarette in his mouth and Harry tries not to focus too hard on the way his lips wrap around it. “Want one?” 

“Shouldn’t,” Harry manages, feeling slightly better, “m’lungs are terrible anyway, asthma.” 

“You should’ve said!” Liam exclaims, already lifting his hand to flick his cigarette away but Harry grabs his wrist, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, it’s mild, I won’t die I promise.” Harry stops him and Liam pauses for a second to look him in the eye. Harry meets his gaze, widens his eyes and pulls a face and Liam snorts, shaking his head before tapping the excess ash off his cigarette. 

“You sure you’re alright though, you looked a bit green earlier,” Liam says and Harry chooses to ignore the way he’s purposely blowing the smoke away from Harry. 

“Yeah, just didn’t really realise how drunk I am,” Harry answers, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his cheek on them, facing Liam. “Thought you said two alcopops and you were done for.” 

“Haven’t actually drank that much,” Liam says. He’s holding the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and Harry hates to say he looks unfairly good with a plume of smoke following his words. Harry wonders if Liam smokes big, thick cigars, sat in front of a fireplace in his perfectly fitted suits. Immediately, he regrets the thought. “Either way, seems like I gotta look after you now, huh?” 

“Aw, lovely Liam looking after the wasted baker,” Harry drags out, cheeks dimpling as his grins wide, “lovely Liam with his lovely suits and his lovely, warm fireplace.” 

“What?” Liam laughs, eyebrows pulling together and Harry giggles too, not entirely sure why.

“No idea,” Harry answers, still giggling and Liam takes another pull, tapping the toe of his shoe against Harry’s. “What do you do in that office of yours anyway? Tea boy? Secretary? Official bearded mascot?” 

“Yes, I was hired for my beard and my beard alone.” Liam lifts his chin and runs a hand down his neck and Harry coughs. He really had that coming. 

“Seriously?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“‘Course not, Haz,” Liam laughs and the nickname is new, Harry likes it. “We do advertising, bit boring really but I probably shouldn’t be saying that about a company I own.” 

The penny, or like several million pounds worth of pennies drop. All the expensive clothes and Harry’s pretty sure Liam was holding a gold plated zippo a second ago; it all fits into place. Harry’s an idiot.

“Well, bugger me sideways.” Harry finally breathes out, after a longer than intended silence and Liam falls into full out hysterics. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam gasps, “your face was ridiculous.” 

“Well, it was a shock! Owning a grotty little bakery is one thing, a whole company is different!” Harry defends himself.

“I thought you knew,” Liam says after his giggles have finally subsided. “I don’t like to bring it up much, anyway. People always look at you differently or, like, they want something. You and your friends just treat me like a normal lad instead of a cash machine, I like it.” 

“Can’t I treat you like a normal lad and a cash machine, Liam? I’m very poor.” Harry keeps a straight face for all of two seconds before he can’t deal with Liam’s hurt look anymore, grinning to show he’s joking. 

“Dick,” Liam chides, pushing at his shoulder and then grabbing Harry’s arm as he very nearly falls off the bench.

“Owning a company and not even a grey hair on your head,” Harry says with a low whistle. “Proper Mark Zuckerberg you are.” 

“Is that the only young businessman you could think of?” Liam asks and Harry shrugs, unconcerned. “I don’t own it all, it’s my dad’s company really. But he likes to do the travelling and I hold the fort up at home.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s good. It’s alright,” Liam hums, flicking the ash off his cigarette again. “We do a lot of stuff for charity, that’s what I like the most. I couldn’t have all the-- the money without, like, knowing I was giving something back.” 

Harry pauses and tilts his head so he can properly look at Liam and if Harry didn’t think he dreamt him up already then he sure does now.

“Are you sure you’re real?” Harry questions, narrowing his eyes. “I’m starting to think you’re a robot.” 

“You caught me,” Liam laughs, holding up his hands in defense. 

They fall silent for a moment and Harry shuts his eyes, humming along quietly to the music that’s seeping it’s way outside from the noisy pub. He has no idea what it is, some top 40 hit he’s let Louis blast through the bakery during closing time clean ups but it has a good beat, a nice melody and after a second Liam’s joining in. It startles Harry, his voice trailing off as he tries to listen closely to Liam’s.

“Hey Harry,” Liam says, abruptly ending his humming, “you falling asleep on me?” 

“No, shh, no,” Harry whispers, eyes still closed. “Just imagining your giant office and your collection of expensive fountain pens.” 

“I don’t have--” Liam cuts himself off and Harry squints open an eye, grinning. “You’re an idiot.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry hops up off the bench, holding a hand out for Liam. “Lets go, Sugar Daddy.”

“Terrible,” Liam sighs but let’s Harry pull him off the bench and start towards the back door. 

“Terribly amazing,” Harry corrects, Liam’s palm warm against his. He doesn’t drop Liam’s hand until they’re back inside and if Liam has a problem with it he doesn’t say anything.

 

\--

 

The rest of the night from there is a blur of horrific decisions and too-loud music. Harry remembers having another drink when he settled back in, Louis’ still alive somehow and clambering excitedly into his lap. He remembers nearly falling over when Niall laughed so hard his pint came out of his nose and Liam’s arm around him keeping him from having a face-first meeting with the floor. 

To be honest, most of what he can remember is Liam-- Liam chattering enthusiastically next to him and Liam dancing, pressed up against his front until Zayn found it appropriate to pull Harry away to bug the DJ and Liam’s hand warm and steady on his thigh as he talked to Jesy. He remembers the club lights catching Liam’s face just right as he laughed at something Louis had yelled in his ear, the distinct memory of wanting to kiss him. 

But, leaving the bar and somehow getting to the club and then somehow getting home is completely erased from his mind. The only real indication of where he’d ended up last night is the devoured chicken bones and chips scattered across the living room floor. The room smells like a deep fat fryer mixed with cheap whisky and it does nothing to help his pounding headache and he blinks a few times, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Fuck,” Harry groans to himself.

Pushing himself up was a mistake, waking up was a mistake, being alive was a mistake. He’s still fully dressed, shoes and all, and the coat he’s wearing is definitely not his. It looks familiar though, so hopefully he didn’t steal it off a stranger.

“Loud,” Zayn mumbles from where he’s passed out, face down on the floor. 

Unlike Harry, he’s not wearing anything except his boxers but, for some reason that Harry doesn’t want to discover, he’s covered in tiny bits of lettuce and there’s a mayo handprint on his back. Well, Harry hopes it’s mayonnaise because, if Harry’s not mistaken, the tuft of bright blonde hair poking out from under the coffee table is Perrie. 

“Shhhhhh,” Perrie adds from her under-table cave, and Zayn tries to search for her with his hand slapping against the floor, eyes still fully closed. “Don’t touch me, might be sick.” 

Harry takes one deep, deep steadying breath before he sits up properly, fingers clenched tight. He needs water, gallons of it and maybe a very strong sedative so he can just sleep through this whole ordeal. 

“What even happened last night?” Harry manages, after he sheds the coat and his shoes and grabs enough water from the kitchen to keep a whole village hydrated. Zayn’s rolled over onto his back now and Perrie’s emerged from her cave, curled up to his side with her eyes still resolutely shut. 

“Couldn’t tell ya, bro,” Zayn mumbles, staring up at the ceiling. He’s got lettuce on his face as well and literally nothing makes any sense. “Last I remember is leaving The Crown and then suddenly I’m here watching you try to eat 20 pieces of chicken, box and all.” 

“Did I manage it?” Harry asks curiously, sliding the rest of his water over to Zayn. Zayn reaches out a hand for it and when it doesn’t magically fly over to him he gives up, flopping back down on the floor.

“You made a decent effort. Perrie has a video,” Zayn answers and Harry groans again. “It’s proper grim, think she instagrammed it.” 

“I hate you both,” Harry says and Perrie lifts a halfhearted middle finger.

“Think I kissed Niall again,” Zayn continues.

“Everyone kisses Niall.”

“Nah, like I could taste what Louis had for dinner.”

“Ugh, Zayn,” Harry drawls out with a frown, shutting his eyes, “did you have to say it like that? Grim.” 

Harry’s saved from any other stomach churning descriptions by the front door creaking open and the single worst rendition of ‘ _How Do You Like Your Eggs in the Morning?_ ’ filtering through the flat. It’s too loud and Harry lies back down, burying his head under the nearest cushion. 

“It is I, Saint Horan The Hangover Saviour,” Niall announces as he emerges from the hallway. Harry lifts his head up for just a second to see Louis on Niall’s back, still in her Iron Man hoodie, hair a mess round her head and her face hidden against Nialls neck. Niall continues, “I come bearing gifts from the faraway land of Maccy Ds.” 

“Legend,” Zayn whispers from the floor, lifting one arm up and making grabby hands.

“Hey Snog Buddy,” Niall grins, all too chipper for this situation and he dumps Louis on top of Harry before placing the bags on the table, starting to rummage through them. 

Letting out disgruntled noise, Louis rearranges herself so she’s lying completely on Harry, curled up with her head on his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer. Cuddles are great. Louis is great.

“You guys better get your act together or I might just steal Pezza from you, Zayn,” Louis says, muffled by the fact that her mouth is buried in Harry’s t-shirt and Perrie makes some sort of affirmative noise but Harry’s pretty sure she’s still fast asleep.

“You’re the one that dared us to,” Niall reasons, “again.” 

“You don’t have to do everything I say,” Louis shoots back.

“Yes I do,” Niall says just as Zayn says, “yes we do.” 

“Harry, make them stop they’re being mean,” Louis whines, poking a finger into Harry’s side and Harry halfheartedly grabs for it, twining their fingers together. It would be sweet if the sole reason wasn’t to make her stop attacking him. 

“Stop,” Harry mumbles, in the least authoritative voice and Niall throws a Sausage and Egg McMuffin at him. 

“Did Liam have a good time?” Louis asks after a second.

“He was wasted,” Niall cackles, picking up Harry and Louis’ legs so he can sit down before he plops them back in his lap. “Good lad though, hilarious, great beard. Took ages trynna put him in a taxi when you wouldn’t let go of him.” 

“Don’t lie,” Harry frowns, except now that Niall says it he can vaguely remember clutching Liam around the waist and yelling at Niall to stop stealing him.

“Nah, he di’nt seem to mind,” Niall continues through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, “followed you ‘round like a puppy all night. Was cute.” 

“Cuuuuute,” Louis coos and then winces at how loud her own voice is. “Has he texted you?” 

“Not sure, haven’t checked my phone yet,” Harry answers. There’s still the tiny bit of disappointment in the pit of his belly from not waking up with Liam in close proximity but maybe it’s for the best if Harry was head first in a box of fried chicken. “Not sure where it is.” 

“Fruit bowl,” Perrie mumbles and Harry doesn’t even question it, just makes big eyes at Niall who’s sitting next to it and infinitely the most capable of reaching it without throwing up.

The last text he’d received from Liam is timestamped _5:09 AM_ and reads, ‘ _thaaaaaaaanksssssssssss 4 otnight hazzzzzza!!!!!!!1 ace ace ace! xxxxxxxx._ ’ Harry’s equally as eloquent reply just ten minutes later was, ‘ _fm kdfs mlea ; p)_.’ 

Biting his lip, Harry holds the phone over Louis’ head so he can write another text.

_‘Heyyyy Liam. Sorry for my incoherent text, haha. Hope you had a good night .xx’_

_‘ughhh h h ur text i s too loud lol my headddddddddd :( but yh had a big night, wish i could remember it all!!!xxx’‘_

_‘We’re having a storytelling, mcdonalds brekky and paracetamol after party if you need a hangover cure .xx’_

_‘dntt think i can moooove. struggleeee :( :( ’_

_‘Haha okay forget you’re not used to the party life .xx’_

_‘oiiiiiiiiiiiiii !!!!!!! have some respect, i saved u fromm drowning in a loo last nightt!!!!!’_

_‘... I don’t even want to know .xx’_

_‘i have picturessss lol’_

_‘Delete them!’_

_‘shhhhh sleepppin’_

_‘Okay, well I’ll see you after Christmas, yeah? .xx’_

_‘can’t wait :) :) :) :) xxxxxxx’_

Harry locks his phone and chucks it back on the floor, burying his nose in the top of Louis’ head to hide his grin as Niall explains how he lost both of his shoes and his dignity last night. 

 

\--

 

Going back to his mum’s is everything Harry expected and, to Gemma’s smug joy, everything he needed. He spends most of it lounging around in his new Christmas pyjamas and fluffy penguin socks, getting absolutely thrashed at board games by his mum and watching every Christmas movie on telly with his sister, curled up with hot chocolate and a mountain of biscuits. 

He couldn’t really afford to get them all the presents he wanted and feels a little guilty when he’s got a massive stack of new t-shirts, albums and an entirely too expensive camera and all he’d managed to get together was some vintage jewelry for his mum he picked up at the weekend market and a framed picture of several tiny kittens in a giant coffee mug for Gemma. They seem pleased though, even more thrilled when Harry spends the afternoon baking them a carrot cake big enough to last them at least a year. 

He stuffs himself to the brim during Christmas dinner and helps his nan finish her crossword even though she playfully hits him after he keeps telling her increasingly rude words as answers to the questions. She’s giggling though, they _are_ related after all. When the evening has died down and everyone’s had their after-dinner nap, he helps his mum wash up and when she asks, he tells her that the bakery is going really well, waves off her concerned look and pretends he isn’t lying.

By the time Harry gets on the train home, his mum’s teary face waving at him through the window, he’s feeling an infinite amount better than before. Although he loved the break, he can feel himself getting antsy, feeling useless just sitting around all day scoffing sweets and arguing with Gemma about who out of Hugh Grant or Colin Firth is more attractive. 

It’s good though, he feels recharged, ready to face whatever waits for him at home. 

 

\--

 

Monday brings a trickle of customers and a freshly baked batch of the week’s special, _Malik’s Mini Macarons_ , just out of the oven. Harry doesn’t usually do anything so fancy but he’s in an excellent mood and everyone finally back from their holiday ventures; the flat no longer feeling that little bit too empty. 

“I love these, H,” Zayn grins as Harry slides an extra plate of the tiny multicoloured macarons across the counter. 

With Zayn’s afternoon off, he’s been trying to build a tower out of them, which quickly changed into making mosaic art. It would probably be going quicker if Louis and Niall didn’t keep stealing the green ones when Zayn’s back was turned.

“Well, maybe you should eat a few instead of playing paint by numbers,” Harry says and Zayn chucks one at him.

Harry goes to throw one back and it goes soaring over Zayn’s head and straight into Liam’s face, who’s chosen impeccable timing to just walk through the door. 

“Most people just say hi as a greeting,” Liam says, looking slightly shocked that he just got a baked good to the face. Harry tries to stifle his laugh but Niall’s already bent over cackling next to him so it’s no use. 

“It’s a new thing we’re trying,” Harry says through a giggle, “free sample if you can catch it in your mouth.” 

“Didn’t even give me a fair chance!” Liam pouts, actually pouts in his pressed suit with his briefcase in his hand and if Harry didn’t already have a problem with his bottom lip, he would now.

“Yeah, give him a fair chance,” Louis simpers and if Niall wasn’t right there to defend her honour, Harry would kick her.

“Fine, fine.” Harry grabs an orange one off Zayn’s tray, squinting an eye as he pinches in between his fingers.

“Styles, _Junior macaron Throwing Champion_ , takes aim,” Niall commentates in a hushed whisper, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. “He’s been slacking the past few games but the audience is in his favour, it’s excitement all around.” 

“Liam ‘ _The Payne Train_ ’ Payno has taken several hits this season but could this be his comeback?” Louis joins in, in the same exaggerated American accent. “Rigorous training and sleepless nights have all been leading up to this point; we can only hope it’s all about to pay off.”

Harry pulls his hand back once, twice, before he launches the macaron into the air. It curves, a perfect arc before landing straight in Liam’s mouth. Niall flings Louis over his shoulder with a roaring cheer, going for a victory lap around the shop and Liam lifts his arms in triumph. 

“Good game, Payne Train,” Harry grins, leaning over to slap his hand against Liam’s when Liam offers it up. 

“Delicious success too,” Liam replies, munching on his macaron. Harry sends Zayn a pointed look and Zayn rolls his eyes, grabbing a handful of the treats and stuffing them in his mouth, smiling back at Harry with a mouth full of multicoloured crumbs. 

There’s a scuffle over in the corner of the shop and Harry only catches the tail end of Niall tripping over the coffee table and sending both himself and Louis into an untidy sprawl on the sofas. 

“Think that’s my cue,” Zayn says, getting a fist bump off Liam before he’s taking a running jump over the back of the sofa too.

“Hi.” Liam breathes out with an almost shy smile once they’re alone. Harry knows that the others are probably eavesdropping, they’re never usually this quiet, but they’ll find out whatever happens later anyway.

“Hello,” Harry replies, drawing out the ‘o’. “Haven’t seen you in a while, thought that night might’ve actually scared you off.” 

“No, no. Sorry, just Christmas is the only real time I get to spend with my parents, otherwise they’re off in New York or Tokyo sorting out business.” Liam rushes to reassure him and although Harry was half-joking, he was a little worried. The most they’d texted was one Sunday when the Grinch was playing on Channel Five and they started giving running commentary. 

“It’s fine,” Harry says easily, “did you have a good holiday?” 

“Yeah,” Liam nods, “it was nice to see everyone. Bit weird, being treated like the baby of the family again after spending months having interns cower in fear when they see me.” The thought of anyone cowering in fear after seeing Liam is amusing and also the slightest bit arousing. Harry busies himself with wiping a nonexistent smear off the glass counter front.

“Did you want anything?” Harry asks, tucking the tea towel back in the front of his apron.

“Well, I only really came to say hi but those macarons were delicious,” Liam says. “Don’t think I’ve ever had them before.” 

“What?” Harry exclaims, feigning shock. “You have never lived, Liam Payne.” 

“They’re so pretty as well. I like the colours.” Liam adds and Harry bites his lip.

“I’d love to see your reaction to rainbow cake,” Harry says and then double takes when Liam’s jaw actually goes slack.

“Rainbow cake?!” Liam questions, his voice rising an octave at the end and his eyes going wide. “That’s a real thing?” 

“Liam, have you never--” Harry cuts himself off, he forgets that most people don’t spend their free time scrolling through pictures of baked goods on _Pinterest_. “Right, we’re baking a rainbow cake, we have to. It’s imperative to my well being that you experience joy in cake form.” 

“I can’t bake. Or, like, cook at all,” Liam says, looking a little sheepish. “When I got home from Louis’, I spilt pasta all over my kitchen floor.” 

“That’s fine because you’ll have me,” Harry beams, “resident masterbaker.” 

“Masterbaker,” Liam repeats, lips twitching and from over in the corner, Louis snorts and the distinct sound of Zayn slapping his hand over her mouth. Harry raises an eyebrow in challenge and Liam lets out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. You can teach me your baking ways.” 

“You won’t regret it, Liam.” Harry’s boxing up a few of the brightest macarons for Liam.

“You could come to mine,” Liam offers, pulling out his wallet to pay for his food, “tonight if you’re not busy. I have a massive kitchen that never gets used, not really sure what half the stuff does.” 

“I could,” Harry says, trying to hide his smile as he uses a square of tape to seal the box shut. 

“You could.” Liam counters, he ducks his head before he continues, “I’ve been meaning to text you anyway, been wanting to see you.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asks, trying to keep his face from melting with sheer joy. “Even after I nearly drowned in a loo?”

“That’s what sold the idea to me, to be honest.” Liam keeps his tone serious, nodding his head. Harry’s stomach is fluttering and there’s a joke to be made about his moth tattoo but he’s going to keep that to himself.

“Well,” Harry starts, sliding the box over, “guess it’s a date.”

“Date sounds good to me.” Liam’s got this soft dopey smile on his face and Harry doubts his is any better. 

Liam leaves with the box tucked under an arm and a promise to text Harry when he’s out of his final meeting of the day and Harry pointedly ignores where Niall, Zayn and Louis are all leaning over the back of the sofa making kissy faces. 

 

\--

 

Liam really has absolutely no idea about the contents of his kitchen so Harry ends up outside his door with several Sainsburys bags brimming with stuff. If the foyer of Liam’s block of flats wasn’t intimidating enough, with the fact that it has an actual chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a doorman, not a stray cat like Harry’s, Liam’s flat itself is huge, giant, ridiculously so. It could probably fit twenty of Harry and Zayn’s ‘ _cosy flat_ ’ inside.

“Hey, hi. Come in,” Liam says opening the door wider so Harry can drag the bags across the floor. He’s wearing a tight plain white t-shirt and jeans but for how dry Harry’s mouth goes he might as well be naked and covered in massage oil.

“Did you know there’s a bowl of fruit in your lift?” Harry asks, diverting his thoughts.

“Yeah, always thought that was a tad too much.” Liam considers.

“Gotta have your five-a-day,” Harry reasons and Liam nods. “Anyway, you were useless so I pretty much brought everything from the bakery.” 

“You should’ve said, I could’ve picked you up.”

“It’s fine, I only got two weird looks on the bus, that happens usually anyway,” Harry reassures, starting to pull his coat off.

“Nice coat, by the way,” Liam says and Harry gives him a confused look before the realisation dawns on him.

“Oh bollocks, it’s yours?” Harry asks, “I didn’t even realise, think I lost mine somewhere that night.” 

“It’s fine, honestly. Keep it.” Liam grins. Harry’s going to have to snoop around the flat later to find Liam’s noble steed and Knight in Shining Armour uniform.

“Alright Mister Chivalrous,” Harry teases, “I’m sure you’ve got a wardrobe full of ‘em somewhere in here.” 

“Nah, then there wouldn’t be enough room for my piles of gold,” Liam jokes and it’s then that he realises they’ve just been standing in the doorway smiling at each other like idiots. Liam seems to catch onto that too as he reaches out for the bags Harry set down next to the door. “You ready to teach me a thing or two?” 

“Buzzing for it,” Harry answers, avoiding any kind of inappropriate joke as he follows him. “Jesus, Liam. How many people live here?” 

“Just me,” Liam says, leading Harry down the hallway just as there’s a high-pitched bark and the clicking of paws against the wooden floor, “and this one.” A little ball of fur flies straight towards Harry, yipping loudly as Harry tries to not trip over it.

“Hi buddy,” Harry greets, stopping to kneel down beside the dog and rub a hand over it’s head. It’s unclear whether the dog is trying to eat Harry’s face or make out with him. “I’m Harry, what’s your name?” 

“Loki,” Liam answers in what Harry assumes to be a dog voice, his mouth completely still and Harry tries not melt on Liam’s lovely wooden floor.

“Loki--” Harry starts, petting Loki one last time before getting back to his feet and following Liam through the kitchen door. “Is that a TV show? It sounds familiar.” 

“It’s a, uh--” Liam pauses, dumping Harry’s bags on the island in the centre of the kitchen, “Loki’s a supervillain?” 

Harry pauses where he’s inspecting the three thousand buttons on Liam’s oven. “You named your precious little puppy after a supervillain?” 

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Liam says, starting to pull out all the different baking tins Harry had packed. “What would _you_ name a puppy?” 

“First, it would be a cat,” Harry corrects him, starting to poke through Liam’s cupboards, there’s a whole load of cereal and most of it with cartoon tigers on the front, “and I’d name them something cute but proper. Like Esther or Hubert.” 

Glancing up from rummaging through the fridge, he catches Liam’s eye and Liam’s just shaking his head, laughing. 

“It’s worrying that I can imagine that,” Liam says, folding up the bags and setting them aside. “Esther and Hubert on your shoulders while you bake.” 

“It’s a dream of mine,” Harry nods. “I’d teach them to play tiny grand pianos and they’d be on a little stage in the shop while I serve all their feline friends milk and fish cakes.” 

“You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met,” Liam states as Harry slides up next to him by the counter.

“You’ve met Louis, though,” Harry points out, reaching for his apron. It’s not the one he uses at the bakery; he serves too many small children and sweet elderly customers to be galavanting around in an apron with a bare, glistening, extremely well sculpted chest on the front. Zayn’s doodled all of Harry’s tattoos on the front, too. Harry loves it.

“The fact still stands,” Liam says with a pointed, amused look at Harry’s apron. Harry shrugs, pulling the strings behind his back to tie it up. 

“Oh no, I forgot to bring you an apron,” Harry frowns, he has the matching ladies one at home. Sometimes he and Zayn get high and watch Spongebob marathons in them. There’s no connection, it’s just a thing. “Do you have one?” 

“Think I have one somewhere,” Liam hums, disappearing into the hallway for a second before he jogs back into the room. Harry’s flat isn’t even big enough to jog in. The bathroom’s probably a mile away and Harry will have to take a pitstop halfway there.

Harry isn’t surprised when Liam pulls the apron over his head and he’s suddenly transformed into the sweetest looking Batman. He just reaches for the flour to stop himself from pinching Liam’s cheeks so hard that they’ll have to call the emergency services to pry Harry away.

It turns out that Liam isn’t as terrible as he first suggested. Harry lets Liam take control, just giving him guidance from over where he’s fiddling with Liam’s home speaker system. He’d maybe created a playlist for this occasion in advance, cryptically named it ‘In and Out’ and it’s entirely made up of mellow indie songs about sex. Harry is nothing but subtle.

Although the recipe isn’t the most complicated thing, Liam does everything with an endearing amount of precision and falls completely silent, furrowing his brows to get the measurements just exact. It’s too much, really and if Harry has to watch Liam bite his bottom lip one more time as he measures out the butter to exact digits, he’s going to climb inside the preheated oven. 

“Liam,” Harry starts. He spent the time Liam was softening butter to pour them two big glasses of red wine and he takes a big gulp. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” 

“I know but,” Liam stands up from where he was hunched over the weighing scales, “baking is your thing and you love it and I want to do it properly.” 

Glass paused halfway to his mouth, Harry tries not to fall physically and metaphorically arse over heels. Liam’s sincere and lovely and Harry doesn’t deserve this wonderful boy spending ten minutes just pouring sugar into a bowl. 

“Well,” Harry clears his throat and takes another sip of his wine, “maybe next time we can file some papers.” 

“Yes, because that’s _all_ I do,” Liam snorts, finally getting the right amount of butter and dropping it into the mixing bowl. 

“I assume you sign stuff too,” Harry adds, “and then sometimes you stare out of your big office windows contemplating what supervillain to name your next puppy after.” 

“You know too much,” Liam narrows his eyes, pointing the whisk at Harry, “you can never leave now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets.” 

“Oh what a shame,” Harry says, “spending the rest of my days with your heated floors and doors with actual working locks.” 

“It’s a tough life,” Liam laments. He’s started whisking the batter by hand and his biceps are doing things that Harry can’t quite cope with. 

“I brought an electric whisk, you know,” Harry says, taking another sip of his wine. The glasses are a nearly the size of Harry’s head but Harry’s already nearly done with his, too used to downing two pound fifty poison in tiny plastic cups. 

“It’s alright,” Liam’s doing a pretty good job of it without a helping hand to be honest. “Should do it proper anyway, like the cavemen.” 

“Ah, yes,” Harry nods knowingly, “the traditional whisking method of the cavemen.” 

When Liam finally stops torturing Harry with his whisking ability, they get the mix in the oven. Liam for some reason has two ovens, so they can put all the different coloured batters in at once. Harry sets the timer as Liam wipes his dirtied hands on his apron, picking up his wine. 

“You’re not as bad as you said you were,” Harry says, leaning back against the island with his glass clasped in both hands. Liam’s sat up on the countertop opposite him, grinning with flour pretty much everywhere it could possibly be and his fingers are stained with food coloured. “I mean, most of the batter went in the oven.” There’s a dollop of it on the floor between them that Harry’s choosing to ignoring.

“Still have to taste it yet,” Liam reasons.

“I have faith in you, Batman,” Harry says, lowering his voice at the end in what he hopes is a decent Batman impression. He’s only watched it once and he fell asleep on Niall halfway through. But Liam laughs, the one that pushes his cheeks up and crinkles his eyes, which is worth it. 

“I liked it though,” Liam adds. “It’s kinda, like, calming.” 

Harry nods in response, tapping his rings against his glass. It is calming, which is partly why Harry loves it so much, it’s something he’s good at too, something he can keep working at, getting better at and even though most people see it as a hobby, Liam knows it’s Harry’s life and he respects that. Harry doesn’t really know what to do with how that makes him feel.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Harry starts with a giggle, setting down his glass. There’s just so much white in his beard he’s starting to look like the KFC Colonel and even though Harry considers himself open to lots of things, that’s not one of them. “You’ve just got flour everywhere.” 

Harry pushes off the counter, steps over the puddle of batter on the floor and sets himself between Liam’s parted legs. At this angle, Liam’s slightly taller than him and Harry has to reach up to try and brush some of the white off Liam’s face, trailing his fingers up to thumb a smudge off it off his forehead. 

Although it wasn’t his original plan, Harry’s seen enough daytime soap operas to see how this ends. Liam’s right there, scrunching up his face with every brush of Harry’s fingers and it’s so endearing, it would take a crowbar to pry Harry away at this moment. 

“Liam,” Harry says, his voice just a touch above a whisper. Liam blinks down at him, lips turning up at the corners and Harry’s hand is lingering against Liam’s cheek, fingers pressed against his hairline and Liam’s hand has come to settle on Harry’s waist.

“Harry,” Liam answers, voice the same breathless tone.

Harry doesn’t really know what he was trying to say, maybe give a warning so that Liam could push him away or pour his wine over Harry’s head and then push him away. But Liam looks quite content, with Harry’s hand on his cheek and the inevitability of Harry kissing him hanging in the air.

So Harry does. He cups Liam’s jaw with his other hand and slants their mouths together. Liam’s mouth is plush and warm and sweet from where he’d licked a spill of batter off his thumb and Harry presses up, steps as close to the counter as he can. Both of Liam’s hands are on his waist now, holding Harry steady as he kisses him back, the scratch of his stubble against Harry’s skin so different to the way Liam’s being slow, almost tentative with the way he slides their lips together. 

And if there’s anything Harry loves more than kissing, he hasn’t found it. Liam’s lips are just made for it, made for Harry to press back a little harder, slide his tongue along Liam’s bottom lip before Harry sucks at it and nips it. Harry wants to climb up on the counter, send everything that’s on top clattering to the floor and settle himself in Liam’s lap so he can get closer, kiss him deeper. But, Liam’s hands are steady on Harry, sliding behind his back and fingers pressing under the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, keeping him where he is.

Liam pulls back and if Harry could catch his breath quick enough he’d chase him, crush their lips back together but Harry feels like he’s run a marathon and then tried to do it again. Instead, Harry rubs his thumb along the line of Liam’s jaw, traces through the thickness of Liam’s stubble to press his thumb against Liam’s reddening lip. Tipping his head forward, Liam rests his forehead against Harry’s, slow puffs of breath stinging at Harry’s wet mouth. 

They stay like that for a second and Liam rubs his hand up and down Harry’s waist, the skin going goose pimpled with every touch as Liam nudges their noses together, stealing another slow, soft kiss. 

“I really wish you weren’t wearing that.” Liam says, voice a little croaky as he plucks at Harry’s apron.

“Excuse me Liam, are you trying to defile me right here where you eat Frosties?” Harry gasps and Liam’s smile is just as wonderful this up close, even better probably.

“No, s’just weird.” Liam giggles and Harry can’t help but dart in quickly to taste it.

“Not so bad for me, I get to tell everyone I kissed Batman,” Harry retorts, slightly smug, because he _does_ get to tell everyone he kissed Liam. He might run out on the balcony now and yell it to passersby. He doesn’t actually know if Liam has a balcony but he has it on good grounds to assume. 

“Will Batman be getting good reviews?” Liam asks, his eyes keep flicking down to Harry’s lips and it’s entirely too distracting. Harry hums as he pretends to think, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth just as Liam’s eyes wander again and Liam’s fingers dig into Harry’s back momentarily. 

“Maybe, not sure,” Harry answers, “might have to try a couple more times to get a proper result.” 

“That seems fair,” Liam agrees, hands pressing warm against Harry’s skin. “You’ve got flour all over your face now, too. You look like the little Christmas man.” 

“Littl-- Father Christmas?” Harry guffaws. God what’s even happening right now. Liam is ridiculous and Harry wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah, him,” Liam says, oblivious to his own hilarity and Harry just shakes his head, grinning like a lunatic.

“I’d go wash it off but I think my legs are jelly.” Harry’s probably not lying either; if it wasn’t for Liam holding him, he’d be a puddle of goo on the floor. 

“It’s a good look on you,” Liam says and his smile is so big that Harry just kind of wants to cover his face because it’s unbearable, “but it’s okay, guess you’ll just have to stay right where you are.” 

“Guess so,” Harry agrees.

If Harry kisses him again, he won’t be able to stop himself from climbing on top of Liam and having his way right in the middle of Liam’s kitchen and the cakes will burn and Liam’s lovely flat will set on fire so he just leans forward, resting his cheek on Liam’s chest. Liam splays his fingers across Harry’s back, humming along to the song playing through the kitchen as they wait for the timer to go off.

 

\--

 

Although it’s almost impossible to pull himself away from Liam, Harry banishes Liam from the kitchen while he decorates the cake, wanting the big reveal to be a surprise. 

They decided to go see what was on telly while the cakes cooled and ended up watching a repeat of an old episode of Top Gear which quickly turned into lazy kisses, Harry crouched over Liam with Liam’s fingers tangled in Harry’s hair. 

It took physically pulling Liam’s hands away and forcing himself to roll off the sofa to get Liam to stop pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, Harry’s chin, Harry’s neck, the inside of his bicep. Harry managed to trip only once on his way to the kitchen and he resolutely didn’t look back when he heard Liam giggle.

His lips are still tingling as he tries to make up the buttercream icing. But thankfully it doesn’t take long and if Harry maybe hurries a little to get all the layers sandwiched together and the cake covered because he can hear Liam asking Loki how his day was next door, then no-one’s to know. 

“Is it okay to eat in here?” Harry asks as he carries the cake through to the living room, he’s trying to balance a knife amongst the towering desert and two plates in his hand and he’s slightly worried he’s going to lose a finger.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Liam answers, sitting up and settling Loki on his lap.

“Now Liam,” Harry says once he’s settled on the sofa next to him, cake and knife safely on the table and all of Harry’s digits intact, “are you ready for your life to be changed?” 

Liam reaches for both of Harry’s hands, holding them in his own as he looks him in the eyes, “I’m just glad I could share this moment with you.” Harry can tell he’s trying so hard to keep a straight face. Loki lets out an indignant whine over losing Liam’s attention before he jumps off Liam’s lap and runs off out of the room.

“Oh just bloody cut it, then,” Harry huffs, passing Liam the knife as Harry slumps back into the sofa, crossing his arms. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam apologises, “I’m sure it _will_ be life changing.” 

Harry wishes he’d brought his new camera with him because the look on Liam’s face when he sees the multicoloured layers is an actual kodak moment. Harry wants to be able to print a hundred copies of it to show all the interns at Liam’s office who find him intimidating. Liam looks like the Little Christmas Man has come early. 

“Science is amazing,” Liam says, staring at the slice of cake on his plate and Harry cackles, the embarrassing one that Louis always makes fun of, before he manages to catch himself, slapping a hand over his mouth. Liam looks at him, surprised. “What was _that_?”

“Nothing,” Harry manages, giggles muffled by the hand over his mouth; there are tears in his eyes and he couldn’t stop laughing if he tried. Liam’s a giant man child and Harry’s enjoying it way too much. 

“You sounded like a parakeet,” Liam snorts, licking a bit of icing off his thumb.

“Heyyyy,” Harry whines, frowning. 

Harry drags two fingers through the icing he’d just perfected and then proceeds to wipe it all over Liam’s face. Liam’s startled for a second and Harry takes that opportunity to smear the icing into Liam’s beard but Liam grabs his wrists, laughing as he fights Harry off, pushing him back on the sofa. Harry’s attempt at squirming away is pathetic and Liam’s got him pinned in seconds, holding Harry’s wrists either side of his head as Liam proceeds to rub his sugary face against Harry’s. 

“Mercy!” Harry yells pathetically, turning his head away, kicking his legs and Liam only relents when Harry’s face is covered.

Slightly breathless, Harry stops trying to fight away and quiets down, Liam still hovering over him. Even with flecks of cake in his hair and his beard, Liam’s unbearably fit and all the squirming hasn’t done Harry any good. He likes what they’ve got going and he wants to take it slow but the way Liam’s tongue is poking out to drag over his lips, licking a bit of icing away, is chiselling away at Harry’s willpower.

“If you can’t take the heat, get out of the oven,” Liam says, completely serious and Harry breaks out in laughter again, stomach already hurting.

“Liam-- Liam that’s not how it--” Harry tries to get out through his laughter but it’s to no avail. 

“Same difference,” Liam dismisses and Harry’s cheeks hurt, his belly aching and there’s icing all over his face and this is the best date ever. 

 

\--

 

Even though there’s really nothing he’d rather do than carry on dozing through episodes of Never Mind the Buzzcocks with Liam’s chest hitching with laughter under him, he’s got to be up at six AM to be an adult and do adult things and he knows Liam’s got an early start too. So he reluctantly pulls himself away, rubbing at his tired eyes and fumbling with his shoes as Liam goes to grab his coat.

Liam offers to drive him home but they’ve both had a little too much wine so Harry opts for the bus, that he inevitably has to run to catch as he steals a second, third, fourth kiss from Liam under the alcove of the entrance to his block of flats.

Zayn’s still awake by the time Harry gets home and it’s not that much of a surprise, he’s usually up until the early hours; sometimes even awake when Harry leaves for work. It’s probably because Harry’s still in a bit of a daze that he doesn’t notice Niall and Louis are there too, all of them piled on top of each other on the sofa.

“Hey guys,” Harry greets, shrugging his, _Liam’s_ , coat off. “I’ve got cake.” 

Louis’ head immediately pops up over the back of the sofa, followed by her arms as she makes grabby hands for it. 

“Welcome home Harold, my most favourite person in this world.” Louis greets him, still trying to reach for the cake and Harry rolls his eyes, passing it to her. 

There’s really no room on the sofa with Louis half in Niall and Zayn’s lap but it hasn’t deterred Harry before, he just plops himself between Zayn’s legs and, without a moment of hesitation, Zayn wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder to carry on watching whatever movie they’ve put on.

“I thought rainbow cake might have been a euphemism.” Niall says after Louis’ unwrapped the tinfoil and Harry kicks at his foot.

“How was it? Did Liam sweep you off your feet? Did he fireman lift you and throw you on his revolving waterbed before he devoured you?” Louis asks while Niall tries to steal the cake out of her hands. She’s holding it out of his reach but she’ll give up soon because it’s Niall and she’s Louis and that’s what they do.

“It was actually really lovely,” Harry pauses for a second, ignoring Louis’ jibes, “didn’t even see his bedroom.”

“Harry’s in loooooove.” Louis sing-songs, pushing a piece of blue cake into Niall’s mouth. Niall nips at her fingers and Louis smushes the next chunk across his cheek. 

“Shut up,” Harry retorts because his heads still a little fuzzy. 

Harry glances over at Niall and Louis to see if there’s any chance of stealing any of the cake back but Niall’s just smeared his nose in icing and Louis’ leaning over to lick it off and Harry would feel a little bit sick if he hadn’t maybe done the same thing with Liam earlier. Instead he feels warm, fuzzy. Like a blanket.

“So it was, like, all good, yeah?” Zayn questions just after a building blows up on screen and Niall cheers.

“Yeah?” Harry answers, not really sure what to say, Zayn sounds like he’s searching for an answer Harry doesn’t know. “Why? Is there something I should know? Does Liam have a secret family he was hiding in his massive maze flat?” 

“No,” Louis says and if she means to elbow Zayn she instead gets Harry straight in the ribs instead. Harry frowns at her and Zayn rubs at the spot to stop him whining. “But Zayn and I taking him on a date to the cinema next week, new Captain America movie.” 

“Why didn’t you invite me?” Harry asks and they both give him a pointed look, which is fair enough. 

“S’alright Haz,” Niall leans over Louis to speak to him, “we’ll have a lads night. Can have a game of underwear golf again, haven’t done that in a while.”

“Laddy lads just being lads.” Harry agrees, holds his hand out for a fist bump but it somehow turns into holding Niall’s hands over Louis’ lap. 

“Laddy lads just holding hands,” Louis joins in, picking at the pink layer of the cake.

“Laddiest of lads,” Zayn agrees, twining his fingers with Harry’s other hand. 

It’s a rare quiet moment within the strangeness of their too co-dependent friendship until Louis inevitably ruins it by pressing her spit slicked finger into Harry’s ear, sending his head back so fast that he almost knocks Zayn out. 

 

\--

 

For Harry’s birthday he doesn’t ask for anything big, doesn’t want a whole night that he’ll eventually end up forgetting. He just wants the lot of them cooped up in his tiny, cold flat drinking cheap wine and singing along to a nineties hits playlist Niall found on YouTube. 

Liam’s been busy with a new client at work so they haven’t had much time for each other, except for quick thirty minute snippets and even if they get an evening together, it ends up with one of them passed out from exhaustion. 

It’s past midnight when Niall and Louis end up falling asleep on each other sprawled out on the sofa after a rousing rendition of _Vogue_ and Zayn stays up to join Liam hanging out of their paint peeled living-room window for a smoke before he kisses Harry’s forehead goodnight, rubs a hand over the back of Liam’s neck and heads to bed.

“You had a good birthday?” Liam asks, quietly as they pick their way through the mess they made to head to Harry’s room. Harry pauses for a second to pull the threadbare blanket off the back of the sofa and lay it over Niall and Louis; Niall lets out a sleepy snuffle and pulls Louis’ closer to him.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, fumbling for the light switch in his room. He’s in one of Liam’s jumpers and the scarf Liam had bought him as a present is wrapped three times around his neck, covering the bottom of his chin. He hasn’t taken it off since Liam gave it to him. “Wish I didn’t have work tomorrow though.” 

“Same,” Liam agrees, stepping close to Harry and taking the end of the scarf in his hand, unwinding it. 

Liam’s lips are stained red from the wine and he’s eyes are the kind of hazy they get when he’s tipsy and Harry can’t help himself kissing him as soon as Liam drops the scarf, lacing his fingers at the back of Liam’s necks. 

Kissing Liam is so familiar now, yet it still has Harry’s skin tingling, warmth flaring in the pit of his stomach as he tries to stop his head from spinning, tries to just focus on the pleasant scratch of Liam’s stubble against his cheeks and Liam’s hands holding him steady. 

“Li, Liam,” Harry pants after he manages to tear himself away from Liam. “Wanna blow you.”

“But it’s _your_ birthday.” Liam says, looking all too concerned for someone who’s just been offered head. Harry noses at the underside of his chin, kisses his neck and pulls the collar of Liam’s t-shirt to the side to nip at his collarbone.

“And for my gift to myself,” Harry starts, sliding his hands under Liam’s t-shirt and dropping to his knees. “I would very much like your dick in my mouth.” 

“Well shouldn’t the birthday boy of his wish,” Liam’s breath hitches when Harry rucks up his top, ghosting his mouth over Liam’s stomach, following the trail of hair down to Liam’s waistband.

“No, that would be extremely rude.” Harry agrees, undoing Liam’s belt and tugging at his jeans. Harry doesn’t tease, smearing a kiss against the head of Liam’s dick, precome slicking across his lips as he takes Liam in.

With one hand circled around the base to hold him steady, Harry works his mouth down further, until Liam’s almost the whole way in and Liam groans, hand fisted in the hair at the back of Harry’s head. And, god, Harry’s getting hard just from the feel of Liam filling his mouth, stretching his lips and the tiny, desperate noises Liam’s making is all too much.

Harry hollows his cheeks and works his hand in the time with his mouth, sloppy and wet and he chances a glance up at Liam and Liam’s hips stutter as he catches Harry’s eye. Harry moans around Liam’s cock when Liam thrusts and Liam takes that as a sign to do it again, thrusting shallowly into Harry’s mouth.

“Look so good with my dick in your mouth,” Liam whispers, thumb pressed against Harry’s check. “Made for it, so gorgeous.” 

Harry moans again, practically preening under the attention and it’s so overwhelming, has him pressing the heel of his hand against his clothed dick. He’s relentless after that, sucking Liam the whole way down and staying there, eyes watering as it gets to the point that he’s fighting for breath.

He pulls up, gasping and wet eyed and Liam wipes at the damp on his cheek, murmuring encouragements between gasps of Harry’s name as Harry presses a sloppy kiss to his head, mouths at the side of Liam’s dick before taking him down again.

“Close, Haz,” Liam grits out, “so beautiful, Harry, gunna make me come.” 

Harry speeds up his hand, twisting up as he follows his mouth and Liam’s gasping, tightening his fingers in Harry’s hair before he spills out hot, thick stripes on Harry’s tongue. Harry swallows as much as he can, catches the rest on the sides of his fingers and licks them clean after, eyes trained on Liam.

Liam’s shaking, sliding to the floor to join Harry as he fights off his post-orgasm haze to kiss the taste of himself out of Harry’s mouth, tonguing Harry’s mouth. They’re knelt in front of each other, Harry leaning his forehead against Liam’s shoulder as Liam fits a hand under the tight waistband of Harry’s jeans. 

Harry’s already riled up with the taste of Liam’s dick on his tongue and the echoing ache of Liam tugging at his hair and he comes with a punched out gasp, slumping forward against Liam.

“Best birthday ever,” Harry pants, and Liam laughs into Harry’s neck. 

 

\--

 

The next month passes in a whirlwind of Liam, Liam, Liam and Harry feeling so happy he could burst. It seems too easy, the way Liam fits in with his life, with all of their lives but it works, like they weren’t actually as complete as they thought they were. 

Liam usually drops by the bakery after work or during his lunch and greets Niall with blinding enthusiasm, flips through Zayn’s school work with fervent interest and takes every poke and pinch Louis aims his way. Then he slides behind the counter or lets himself into the kitchen, hooking his arms around Harry’s waist and greets him with a kiss while simultaneously trying to steal a taste whatever he’s baking. 

They spend every evening they can together; attempting to cook romantic dinners that don’t get spilled on the floor or watching movies that they both end up ignoring in favour of making out like teenagers on Liam’s sofa or pressed arm to thigh together at the pub with Niall, Louis and Zayn creating chaos around them.

Harry loves their quiet nights in, curled up on the sofa with Loki as they marathon cooking shows or Harry showing Liam pointless YouTube videos of baby sloths or cartoon fruit lip-syncing to Euro-pop songs. There’s been more than one time that Harry’s been bone tired, barely even coherent and has passed out face down in Liam’s lap, hugging Liam round the middle as Liam brushes his fingers through Harry’s hair and reads through his paperwork. 

They have clothes at each other’s flat and Harry’s left a bright fuschia toothbrush in Liam’s way too intricately designed toothbrush holder and Harry detests the days he has to wake up without Liam snoring softly next to him.

But recently, between Harry trying to stop _The Rolling Scones_ from crumbling to the ground and Liam putting in extra time at his office, they rarely get time alone and if they do it ends with one of them falling asleep on the other.

Harry’s just off the phone with the Landlady for the fourth time this week and he’s gone from trying to charm her to practically begging. He’s sent her freshly baked scones and fruit cake and even tried his Aunt’s secret almond muffin recipe but it turns out they don’t substitute for money. From fixing broken plumbing last month and paying for every other bill that comes with owning this place, he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it. 

Harry doesn’t even get time for a breather before the oven timer is going off and he’s chucking his phone to the side, grabbing for a tea towel. Of course, Harry picks up the one with a giant gaping hole in it and as soon as he picks up the tray it burns his hand. He curses, dropping the tray and he can only watch as the pastries go rolling across the floor, tray upturned and clattering loudly.

He’s dropped trays before, he’s dropped whole sacks of flour before but it feels like he’s right at the end of his tether, pulled so, so taut and just waiting for a moment to snap. He barely even notices the kitchen door swinging open as he presses his hand to his mouth, trying to keep himself together.

“Hey babe, you alright? Heard a crash from outside, Louis wants me to make sure you didn’t set the kitchen on fire,” Liam says and Harry hunches in on himself because if anything’s going to make him break it’s going to be lovely, sincere Liam. “Harry?” 

“Yeah I-- I’m ...” Harry tries, voice cracking and he tries to take another deep breath but his ribs are caving in, pushing all the air out of his lungs. He doesn’t try to speak again, keeps his lips tight together trying to stop them from trembling. 

“Hey, hey,” Liam says, voice hushed and Harry’s hand is throbbing, his head is banging and no matter how clean his kitchen is, no-one’s going to eat floor pastries. He presses the heel of his hand to his eyes and only resists for a second as Liam places a hand on his arm, turning Harry to face him. “What’s up? We’ll just dust the pastries off, no-one will know.”

Harry lets out a watery laugh and then it’s too late to go back, his eyes are filling and his next intake of breath sounds more like sob and Liam’s pulling him towards him without even a second thought, wrapping his arms around Harry and tucking Harry under his chin.

“‘M sorry.” Harry manages, breath hitching as he tries to calm himself down. Liam’s rubbing his back slowly and he’s pressing his lips to the top of Harry’s head and it just makes him want to cry some more. “I just-- I-- I’m so bloody _stressed_ and--”

He cuts himself off again and buries his face in Liam’s chest, probably ruining Liam’s suit but Liam just holds him tighter, rubbing a hand up and down his side.

“Harry, it’s fine, c’mon,” Liam pulls himself back and Harry absolutely doesn’t whine but he sniffs, rubbing a hand over his wet face. It’s unfair that Liam’s seeing him red faced and snotty when Liam looks so painfully gorgeous all the time. “Look, I’m sending you home.”

“You’re not my _teacher_ , Liam,” Harry tries but he still sounds all bunged up and awful.

“No, but I’ll tell Zayn you’re the one who spilt syrup on his docs.” 

“Blackmail,” Harry grumbles but he’s too tired to even argue now; Liam could tell him to eat all the floor pastries and he probably would. 

“Niall and Louis can look after the shop, Zayn’s out there too if it gets busy,” Liam continues, tugging Harry’s apron up over his head and setting it on the counter. “I’m taking you home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” Harry says, he wants to leave but he doesn’t want to go home and have to face the reality that he lives in a shithole and he can barely afford food and his bed is just a mattress on the floor after the frame broke last week.

“Then you’re coming to mine,” Liam answers, simply. He pauses for a moment, cups Harry’s jaw between his hands and thumbs away the wet under his eyes. Liam leans in, gives Harry the softest, sweetest kiss and Harry probably tastes gross with a hint of tears and he doesn’t deserve any of this but he’s going to take every bit he can while it lasts. 

 

\--

 

Harry takes his time washing his whole catastrophe of a day off his skin after Liam leaves him to shower, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. When he pads through to Liam’s bedroom, wrapped in two giant fluffy towels, Liam’s sat on the edge of his bed, frowning at his phone. He’s dressed down, just in trackies and a loose jumper and there’s clothes set out next to him presumably for Harry.

“You sure work doesn’t need you?” Harry asks, trying not to leave a trail of wet on Liam’s carpet. 

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Liam answers, sending off a text before he locks his phone and throws it on his pillow. “As long as nothing sets on fire then I’ll count it as a win.” 

Harry laughs; he’s still feeling slightly like the world’s crashing down on him but being around Liam deafens it, so he can push it to the back of his mind for just a few hours. Picking up the trackies and hoodie Liam’s laid out for him, he throws his towel over Liam’s head and starts pulling them on.

“Oiii,” Liam protests, muffled, “I do all of this and then I don’t even get to see the show.” 

“Gotta have some mystery after you saw me crying like a lost toddler,” Harry answers. Even though Liam and he are pretty much the same size, the sleeves of the hoodie fall over Harry’s hand and he curls his fingers over them. It smells like Liam and the thrumming anxiousness in Harry’s bones settles as Liam pulls the towel off his head.

“Don’t be like that,” Liam frowns, standing up so he’s toe to toe with Harry. He uses the corner of the towel to rub over Harry’s damp curls and it feels overly intimate, how gentle Liam’s touching him and Harry ducks his head, shutting his eyes. “We can watch Toy Story 3 later and you can see a grown man properly weep if you want.” 

It startles a laugh out of Harry and the movement drops the towel from his head so it falls around his neck. Liam, with a hand on each end of the towel, pulls Harry closer and nudges their noses together, dropping a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry falls into it, stepping closer as Liam kisses him again, longer this time, dropping the towel to cup Harry’s jaw.

“Wait,” Liam says breaking off the kiss, grinning when Harry lets out a quiet whine at the loss, “I wanna show you something.” 

Taking Harry’s hands and slotting his fingers through Harry’s, Liam starts pulling him out of the room, down the hallway and out the front door of the flat, grabbing his keys on the way. Harry doesn’t even have any shoes on but it’s not like he has much choice, what with Liam tugging him towards the lift. 

“I hope you’re not taking me to some underground sex dungeon, Liam,” Harry says once they get in the lift. Actually, he probably wouldn’t be too opposed to it but he’s a tad too tired to be tied up. Maybe next time.

“No, that’s still in construction,” Liam answers simply, pressing the button for what Harry assumes is the top floor. He reaches out for Harry’s other hand, tugging Harry towards him so they’re pressed toe to chest and Harry drops his head on Liam’s shoulder. “Thought you might like some relaxation today and not a spanking.” 

“There’s a difference?” Harry mumbles against Liam’s jumper and Liam pinches his side. 

The lift dings, the doors sliding open and they have to push through a fire exit and climb a set of darkened stairs to get wherever Liam’s taking him. Liam holds open the door to the roof, Harry stepping out onto the cold patio floor, burrowing into his jumper as he shivers, a slow gust of wind sailing by.

It’s just starting to get dark, the sky a deep pink and Harry takes a moment to take it all in. He wishes he’d brought his phone because it’s so pretty and he could’ve captured the silhouette of Liam next to him watching the city and captioned it _Batmanstagram_. He’s got a growing collection of silly pictures of Liam on his phone and it just feels like a wasted opportunity. 

The only rooftop he’s been on is that time he was dared at school to climb the drama block but this is entirely different. It’s neat, trimmed hedges and not a single tiny white pebble out of place and the day bed Liam’s leading him to is bigger than Harry’s sofa. 

“When did you do this?” Harry asks. There’s white wine and a bowl of cherries on one of the armrests which Harry is pretty certain is Liam’s doing.

“When you were in the shower,” Liam answers, tugging Harry down next to him. There’s also blankets and fluffy pillows and Harry might start crying again. “Always come up here if I’m feeling a little stressed.” 

“It’s nice,” Harry says because he doesn’t really know what else to say, he’s feeling slightly overwhelmed. He reaches for the glasses instead, pouring out the wine and handing one to Liam. 

It’s so quiet, as if the hustle and bustle of people going about their day just floors below them doesn’t exist and Harry lies back, propping the glass on his stomach. Liam leans back next to him, propped up on his elbows as he takes a sip of wine and Harry watches the glass push down on his lip and the angle of his jaw as he swallows. The last light of the evening is glowing across Liam’s face and Harry really wishes he could save this moment and keep it locked away for when he needs it again. 

“Did you,” Harry starts, staring up at the sky, running his finger along the stem of the glass. “Did you always want to help your dad with the company?” 

“No, not really,” Liam answers with a considering look, “wanted to be a singer at first. Proper big pop star.”

“I can imagine that,” Harry smiles at the thought, “sure I would’ve been a massive fan. Stalked you on twitter and all that.”

“Alright, no need to take the piss,” Liam chides.

“I’m not! Can imagine you on stage in your suits and your fancy hair.” Harry retorts. “Next Justin Timberlake.” Liam starts humming _Suit and Tie_ and Harry nudges his foot against Liam’s leg.

“I actually auditioned for X Factor,” Liam adds, “got through to judges houses the first time, then they said I was too young so I tried again. Failed twice and decided to pack it in.”

“Third times the charm.” Harry says and also mentally files it away so he can YouTube it later, there must be videos of it somewhere and it’s imperative that Harry views them all several times.

“Nah, think I made my mum cry enough with it,” Liam says, an air of nostalgia to his voice. “Then I wanted to be a fireman for a while.” 

“A fireman?” Harry says and his voice absolutely doesn’t break, the thought of Liam in uniform and covered in soot doing nothing for him. _At all_.

“Yeah, I dunno,” Liam answers and out of the corner of Harry’s eye he can see him shrug. “Guess I’ve just always liked the thought of helping people, saving them. I still get to do that with the company, help people who need it with the charity side and help my employees pay their rent and feed themselves. So it’s not like my dream is completely gone.” 

“Proper superhero in disguise you are,” Harry says, trying to keep his tone playful but his voice hitches halfway through and his chest feels like it’s caving in again.

“Hey, I know my X Factor sob story was embarrassing but I didn’t think it would make you cry,” Liam tries to placate him and Harry tries for a laugh, leaning up to set his glass on the armrest.

“I’m just being stupid, ignore me,” Harry answers, going to use the end of his sleeve to dab at his eyes but Liam catches Harry’s hand. With a finger under Harry’s chin, he tilts his face up and Liam’s right there, eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

“What’s up?” Liam coaxes. Harry sits up then, facing Liam and crossing his legs.

“The bakery started off really well, you know?” Harry starts after a deep shuddery breath. “It was just like working for my Aunt over the summer, it was fun. Even after Gemma and my mum stopped popping in every week to check up on me, it was good. I could still go out and have my life and had enough money to do the things that I wanted. Then it just started to slow down; less customers and more bills. Half the employees quit, they all had different reasons but I’m pretty sure they could see I was struggling.”

Harry pulls the sleeves of the hoodie further over his hands, curling in on himself, he continues, “I don’t-- my Aunt left it to me, yeah? Thought I was good enough to carry it on. It was her dream. She and her husband spent years building it up and I feel like I’m just undoing all their work. 

“I know I didn’t have to take it on, could’ve just sold it or-- but. I just wanted to make her proud. Then there’s Niall and Louis who work overtime even when I can’t pay them and Zayn relies on me for the flat. I’ve always thought everyone was waiting for me to throw the towel in and there’s no way-- I can’t-- it’s not--” Harry cuts himself off, shaking his head and Liam presses forward, tugs at Harry arms until he clambers into the open V of Liam’s legs, facing him.

“Harry,” Liam starts, brushing back Harry’s hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear. “You’ve tried, you’ve really tried. I see how much you love that place, your Aunt didn’t make a mistake when she left it to you.”

“Tryings not enough, though,” Harry mumbles.

“You can’t be expected to do it on your own, Haz. Have you even told the others?” Liam asks and Harry bites his lip, shaking his head ‘ _no_ ’. “You know they’d do anything to help you, right?”

“That’s the problem, I can’t take up anymore of their time. Zayn’s so bogged down with uni work, Louis has her family to think about and Niall’s already been working longer than he was supposed to.” 

“It’s not a chore, Harry, you think they would’ve stayed so long if it was?” Liam questions and Harry shrugs. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but it’s pretty impossible not to like you. Somehow amongst the crap stories and the every day near death experiences, you’re a proper charmer.” 

“Thanks,” Harry says, with a hint of sarcasm and Liam rolls his eyes, poking at his knee. 

“You know what I mean,” Liam continues, undeterred. “I don’t know if I’ve told you yet, or if it’s even obvious but I do quite fancy you. And I don’t like seeing you stressed or upset or, well, crying like a lost toddler.” And if Liam thinks that’s going to stop Harry’s eyes watering then he’s sorely mistaken.

“You’re alright, I guess,” Harry answers, scrunching up his nose even though his insides feel like they’re on fire. Liam fakes an exaggerated gasp, before jutting out his bottom lip.

“Gunna put that on my CV,” Liam nods, “ _Liam Payne: Alright, I guess._ ” 

Harry laughs quietly, ducking his head to hide his face and Liam just pulls him closer. Harry loves that-- that Liam can pull him back together and keep him steady and make him laugh, genuinely laugh when he all he feels like doing is hiding under a rock for a few weeks. 

After a moment, he lifts his head up and Liam’s so, so close with barely an inch between them. He still has his arms around Harry, thumb rubbing absentmindedly at his back as he smiles at Harry. Harry’s so used to being the tallest, gangly limbs and taking up more space, that feeling so small tucked up against Liam, so safe has his something in his chest twisting, pulling.

It’s completely dark out now, just the lights from surrounding buildings illuminating their rooftop getaway and it feels right then, to curl his fingers around the back of Liam’s neck and close that tiny gap, to kiss him instead of even trying to put into words how grateful he is. Liam doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and press forward, tilting Harry back until he’s laid out, Liam hovering over him. 

They’ve done so much kissing and Liam’s picked up everything Harry likes, deep and slow with Liam’s fingers threaded through Harry’s hair and Harry’s shameless about it, moans when Liam’s tongue slips between his lips, digs his knees in against Liam’s waist when he tugs at Harry’s hair. 

“Harry,” Liam pants when he pulls back, “if you shiver one more time you’re going to end up biting my tongue off.” 

“Sorry.” Harry giggles, he’s absolutely freezing his bollocks off but he’d got caught up in Liam’s mouth. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Liam.

“I have a bed downstairs, actually. Much warmer,” Liam continues, nosing at Harry’s neck and dropping a kiss to his collarbone. 

“Sounds positively delightful,” Harry answers, all attempts at sounding casual completely gone as he starts to scramble to get up. Liam’s definitely laughing at him as he grabs his glass of wine along with the bottle and bolts for the door, backtracking to grab a handful of cherries while he’s at it. 

Harry’s running technique leaves something to be desired so Liam reaches him quickly, catching him around the waist as Harry steps into the lift, pushing him up against the wall. 

“Hello,” Harry sings. Liam’s made his mood flip itself on it’s head and suddenly he feels light headed and giddy, can’t stop giggling when Liam tries to kiss him again. 

“Feeling better?” Liam grins, sliding his hands up Harry’s chest to rest on his shoulders. 

“Think so,” Harry breathes, darting forward to kiss Liam, pulling back before Liam can deepen it. “It’ll get better, yeah?” 

“It will,” Liam promises, says it like he genuinely believes it too and Harry’s stomach flips. 

Their noses brush and Harry takes that opportunity to press their lips together, circling his arms around Liam’s neck. His hands are still full with the glasses, the bottle and the cherries and he realises that he’s made a mistake when he can’t draw Liam closer or fist a hand in the back of his jumper.

“Harry, Haz,” Liam pants out and it looks like it’s taking all of his strength to pull away. Harry understands, he _really_ does but he just doesn’t understand why Liam feels the need to stop kissing him. Liam starts laughing as he tries to get his words out, “we haven’t-- we haven’t pushed the button.” 

“Oh,” Harry answers dumbly, he hadn’t even noticed they weren’t moving and Liam’s buries his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, trying to stifle his laughter.

Still tangled up in Liam, Harry leans over to try and smash the button for Liam’s floor with the end of the wine bottle. Inevitably, he presses five other buttons, wine spills out over his hand and all the cherries in his hand go thudding to the floor.

“My cherries,” Harry frowns, staring as they roll across the floor when the lift starts to descend. Liam laughs harder.

“I‘ll buy more, I’ll buy a whole tree, an orchard-- is that what they’re called?” Liam tries to placate him and a cherry hits Harry’s foot. The lift dings and the doors slide open to Liam’s floor, luckily the four other buttons Harry pressed were for the floors below.

“Later,” Harry says, feeling slightly frantic now he can see the Liam’s front door right at the end of the hallway, “more important matters.” 

Liam seems to agree because he lets Harry drag him the rest of the way to the door.

 

\--

 

The wine and cherries are abandoned as soon as Liam gets the door open, and so is Harry’s hoodie as he pulls it over his head and flings it across Liam’s two thousand square feet room. Liam was right, his bed is much warmer than outside and Harry sinks straight into it, leaning back on his elbows as Liam watches him. 

“Come here,” Harry says, even pulls out a smoulder and a crooked finger which has Liam shaking his head, grinning as he reaches one arm behind his back to pull of his jumper too. It’s unfair that Liam makes taking his clothes off look like some sort of Gucci underwear advert and Harry usually gets stuck in the neck hole. 

Harry wastes no time getting his hands on Liam; as soon as he’s close enough Harry grabs his wrist and pulls him down, flipping them over so he’s straddling Liam instead. He’s been half-hard since Liam pushed him up against the wall in the lift but with Liam under him-- all tanned skin and mouth kiss-raw and a smattering of chest hair that Harry’s finding very hard not to just rub his face against-- he’s thickening up quickly, aching for it. 

Rolling his hips against Liam’s, he seals their mouths together, catching Liam’s moan against his tongue. Liam fists his hand in Harry’s hair and the steady rhythm of Harry’s hips stutters, his mouth going slack as he whines at the back of his throat.

“Fuck, Liam,” Harry breathes out, resting his forehead on Liam’s bare chest, nosing at the soft skin, sinking his teeth in. He feels so desperate for it now, can’t physically get close enough to Liam. He’s near sobbing when he babbles out, “need you, need you so much.”

“I’ve got you,” Liam murmurs, voice hushed as Harry ruts against him. “You’re okay, babe.”

Liam smooths his hands down Harry’s back, doesn’t stop until they’re curved around his arse, pressing Harry down harder against him. Harry can’t tear his eyes away from between their bodies, both their joggers tented and even under the material Liam looks big and thick. Harry wants to touch him and taste him and, fuck, he wants Liam to stretch him and fill him up.

Despite the fact they’re half naked, there’s still too many clothes and Harry pulls himself back to tug off his trackies and then reaches for Liam’s. Thankfully, it wasn’t one-sided and Liam’s just as hard, cock bobbing up, the head of it flushed red and glistening with precome against his flat stomach and Harry wants him so, so bad. 

He crawls back over Liam again, keeps himself up on his knees as he leans over, going for Liam’s mouth. There’s nothing tentative about it, Liam fucking his tongue against Harry’s and it’s painfully hot and so filthy that it has Harry moaning, muffled between their lips. 

Harry can’t even pause for a second to take in the moment, Liam chest splotchy red and so unfairly fit, all toned stomach and stark black tattoos and Harry wants to taste every single inch of him. Wants to suck on the inside of his thigh and the soft part of his bicep and see what Harry’s name tastes like coming out of Liam’s mouth.

Harry gets a hand between them, fisting Liam’s dick and Harry could probably happily live the rest of his life attached to it. It might cause some problems, but he feels like the benefits outweigh the cons. 

Harry runs his thumb over the head to smear the spill of precome and, fuck, Liam’s so wet for him and Harry’s probably about two seconds away from coming untouched, just from the rush of this alone. Liam fucks up into Harry’s fist, kissing Harry hard and bruising and Liam’s so _loud_ , louder than he’s been before, cursing under his breath.

Liam pushes up on his elbows, jolting Harry’s hand away before he pulls Harry completely into his lap and uses the leverage to roll them over. Holding him down, Liam kisses everywhere he can reach-- Harry’s chin, his jaw, the curve of his shoulder, just under the swallows tattooed on his chest and Harry ruts up against him, dicks sliding together so painfully good. 

He’s chanting Liam’s name like a bloody prayer, absolutely begging for it, embarrassingly hot for Liam and he just wants more, fingers digging in so hard where he’s clutching at Liam.

“What do you want, babe?” Liam says, his voice already sounding fucked out and Harry tries to muffle his moan with an arm thrown over his face. “C’mon, Harry, tell me.”

“Want--” Harry cuts himself off as Liam rolls his hips down against Harry’s. Harry wants everything, wants to suck Liam down, have him fuck his throat ‘til he’s gagging, wants Liam to press his thighs back and lick him out. “Want you to fuck me, please Li.” 

Liam stills for a second and Harry’s gut twists as he glances up at Liam’s face and his eyes are shut, biting his lip as if he’s trying to steady himself.

“Shit, yes-- if you want, yes,” Liam seems to step back into gear, “did I say yes enough times? Yes, yes. Yes.” Harry laughs, breathless and a little hysterical before he pulls Liam back down, still laughing as he tries to kiss him. 

It takes all of thirty seconds for Liam to reach over to his bedside table and rummage through his top drawer and the pit of Harry’s stomach flutters with excited nerves. He hasn’t been fucked in a long, long time; he’s probably going to last a good ten seconds but he doesn’t even want to take it back. 

He definitely doesn’t want to take it back once Liam’s finger circles his hole, kissing Harry’s shoulder before he presses in and Harry arches his back, trying to get Liam to give him more already. Liam’s still over him, knelt between Harry’s spread legs and he presses his mouth to Harry’s chest, moves lower and spreads the flat of his tongue over Harry’s nipple. 

Liam works another finger in and Harry rolls his hips into it, he loves the stretch, the hint of pain amongst the pleasure rolling through his body as Liam crooks his fingers, starts to thrust them steadily. 

“S’good,” Harry encourages, one hand fisting the sheets next to him and the other clutching at Liam’s shoulder as Liam flicks his tongue against the hard, pebbling nub of Harry’s nipple, “so good, Liam. Can-- I can take more.” 

Liam doesn’t hesitate, presses in a third finger and picks up his pace, fingers crooked as he fucks Harry, stretches him and the wet, slick noise is so filthy it makes Harry clench around Liam’s fingers, biting his lip so hard it’s painful. The impending thought of having Liam inside of him, pressed against every inch of him is too much, has his toes curling and the back of his knees sweating.

“Think you’re ready?” Liam asks, his breath fanning across Harry’s wet nipple and Harry bears down on Liam’s fingers again.

“Yeah-- yeah, yes,” Harry pants. “Have I said ‘yes’ enough times?” He tries to make it lighthearted, likes that they can go from laughing to bruising kisses in seconds but it comes out desperate. Liam still smiles though, cheeks flushed and his brow sweating and he’s so fucking beautiful. 

Harry tries not to whine too loud at the loss of his fingers as Liam’s pulls them out, his hole clenching around nothing. 

Liam wipes his hand on the duvet after rolling a condom on, slicking himself up again and Harry would almost feel bad for potentially ruining Liam’s expensive sheets if he could bring himself to care at all.

Harry spreads his legs, fitting his knees against Liam’s sides when Liam leans back over him. Liam kisses him slow, deep, unhurried and Harry falls into it, fingers curved around Liam’s jaw as he kisses him back, tries to lessen his heart rate.

Liam’s cock is pressed up against him, snug between Harry’s cheeks and Liam thrusts lazily, rubs the length of it against Harry until the tip snubs against the rim of Harry’s hole. Harry lets out an embarrassingly desperate moan, knees digging in against Liam’s sides and before Harry can even tell Liam to hurry up, to get on with it, Liam’s holding his dick steady, slowly pressing inside.

And, _fuck_ , it’s so good. Harry opens for him so easily, pulls him in and the stretch is unbelievable, makes Harry press his head back against the mattress to stop him losing it right there. Liam doesn’t stop, keeps pushing until his hips are flush with Harry’s arse and Harry can feel it everywhere, the soles of his feet are burning and his dick achingly hard between them. 

“Okay?” Liam pants and Harry pulls him down with a hand on the back of his neck, kisses Liam hard as he rocks his hips, tries to get Liam to start fucking him properly. 

“Better,” Harry groans as Liam gets the idea, starts thrusting slowly-- too slowly, “God, fuck, faster Liam, please. Fuck me faster, harder.” 

Liam’s hips stutter but he nods, presses a lingering kiss to Harry’s swollen mouth before sitting up until he’s kneeling, pulling Harry by his hips until he’s practically in Liam’s lap. With his hands on the back of Harry’s knees, Liam spreads Harry’s legs wider, pushes them back until Harry’s thighs are pressed against his chest, his cock bobbing between his legs. 

He’s so exposed, must look absolutely obscene, all stretched out and sweaty and trying desperately to fuck himself on Liam’s cock but Liam watching him hungrily, biting his lip as he starts to thrust faster and Harry could get off on that alone, just the look on Liam’s face. 

“Taking me so good,” Liam moans, sounding almost awed and Harry wishes he could see what Liam’s seeing, wishes he could see Liam’s cock pressing inside of him. “So fucking gorgeous, Haz.” 

Harry’s dick twitches again and he can’t take it anymore, trailing a hand down his stomach to cup himself, trying to hold himself off for as long as he can.

“You gunna come?” Liam grunts, hands still pressing Harry’s legs back, keeping him spread open. He’s fucking him so deep, pounding into him hard and Harry can’t even form a thought let alone words. “You gunna come on my dick?”

“Yea-- Yeah,” Harry slurs, squeezing the base of his cock as it dribbles precome, smearing across his stomach. “Fuck, can’t hold on much longer. Feels so good.”

Liam lets go of his legs, dropping onto his elbows either side of Harry’s shoulders, caging him in. Harry surges up to kiss him, he loves being spread out for Liam but wants Liam pressed against him, buried inside of him like this even more. He hooks his ankles behind Liam’s back, his free arm hooking around Liam’s neck to keep them pressed together.

Harry’s so overwhelmed, fucking blissed out and seeing scattered stars from having Liam inside him and around him and pinning him down to the mattress. He has no bloody clue why they haven’t done this sooner and Harry already has trouble keeping his hands to himself but this is going to make it near impossible.

Skin to skin and Liam dicking inside of him relentlessly, nailing Harry’s prostate on the deepest thrusts combined with the sound of their bare skin slapping together pushes Harry over the edge and he wraps his hand around himself, starts tugging himself off. His cock’s slippery wet with precome and sweat and his hand glides over it easily, almost a blur between his and Liam’s bodies.

“Close,” Liam gasps, just after he ducks his head to watch Harry’s wanking himself off and Harry can’t even give a warning, his load spilling all over his stomach as he shakes with it, clamps his mouth down on Liam’s shoulder to muffle his moans.

The world’s out of focus and he feels so sensitive where Liam’s still fucking him but he wants to get Liam off, wants to feel him come inside of him. He lifts his messy hand, makes sure Liam’s watching when he pushes two of his come covered fingers inside his own mouth, makes a show of licking them clean between his bruised lips. And when Liam groans, mouth falling open, Harry kisses him, keeps it on his tongue as he fucks it into Liam’s mouth and makes Liam taste him.

It’s enough for Liam to give one, two, three last thrusts before he stills, the muscles in his back tightening under Harry’s hand as he comes. Harry’s dick gives a feeble twitch at the sight of Liam with his head thrown back, sweat pooling in the dips of his collarbones and mouth red raw. With his last ounce of energy, Harry manages to hold Liam through it, kisses his jaw and his neck and soothes a hand down his tense back. 

Liam tilts his head down enough to catch Harry’s mouth, slow and lazy with Harry’s hand moving to cup Liam’s jaw. Harry’s movements are sluggish and delayed, but there’s a dull pleasant thrumming in every bone of his body. After a long moment of kissing, Liam pulls away, holding himself as he pulls out of Harry carefully, tying off the condom and flopping down next to Harry. 

“Mmph,” Liam says, arm flung over his eyes and Harry hums in agreement. He’s still covered in sweat and come and lube but he’s not moving for the next five, possibly eight years. He can already feel how sore he’s going to be later, how there’s probably going to be finger tip shaped bruises on the back of his thigh. 

With all the effort that’s left in his body, he rolls over to look at Liam.

“Oh, shit,” Harry says, startled. He didn’t exactly think about the fact his hand was still covered in jizz when he touched Liam’s face, and now it’s all over his beard. 

“What?” Liam mumbles, moving his arm and squinting at Harry as Harry starts to giggle. It hurts to even laugh but he can’t stop himself. 

“You’ve got my come all over your beard,” Harry snorts, folding in on himself because of course this would happen to them. 

“What?” Liam asks, still a bit dazed as he lifts a hand to swipe at his chin. “Eugh, _Harry_.”

“I didn’t realise!” Harry apologises although he’s still cackling. He worms his arms around Liam, tugging him closer so their limbs are tangled together. He presses his face to the side of Liam’s and whines, “I’m sooorrryy.” 

Liam smiles then, although it’s fondly exasperated, eyes crinkling up and Harry is so terribly gone for him. 

“Shower?” Liam suggests and Harry crinkles his nose, burying his head in Liam’s shoulder.

“Carry me?” Harry counters.

Harry ends up getting dragged to the bathroom by his ankles, yelling mercy the whole way.

 

\--

 

Harry’s nearly dead on his feet when he crawls under the covers, still a little damp from his shower. Liam’s gone to let Loki out for a few minutes so Harry reaches for his phone, squinting at it in the low light.

There’s thirteen unread messages, mostly multicoloured heart emojis Niall’s sent, along with doodles of Harry as a cupcake from Zayn and Louis’ threatening his life if he doesn’t get back to him.

‘ _Can’t believe you let Liam see your ugly cry ! Rookie mistake !’_  
‘Ha Just joking ! Love you !’  
‘Niall and I can take the morning shift. Make sure to thank Liam properly !’  
‘Are you alive ??? Did Liam kill you ?!’  
‘HARRY ANSWER ME!’  
‘HARRY EDWARD STYLES !!!!!!’

Harry rolls his eyes, quickly thumbing through the rest of his texts before going back to Louis’ message, knowing she’ll pass the memo on.

‘ _Yes, Liam’s killed me.. Please avenge my death._ ’  
‘ _But thank you I owe you a million.. sweeties, not money. I’ll be there in the afternoon, love you all .xx_ ’

Turning off his phone as there’s no need to set an alarm, he buries himself into Liam’s ridiculously fluffy pillows, letting out a noise of content. 

He’s pretty much asleep when the bed shifts, covers lifting up and letting in a gust of cold air. Liam settles down next to him and he has the scent of smoke clinging to him. Harry cracks an eye open and catches Liam staring at his sleeping face.

“Creepy,” Harry mumbles sleepily and Liam reaches up to poke Harry’s nose. “Why’re you so far away?” 

“Didn’t want to wake you,” Liam answers and Harry’s stomach flips.

“Well, you’ve already done that,” Harry huffs exaggeratedly and Liam raises an eyebrow.

“Well, in that case,” Liam shifts further away from him and Harry frowns, reaching out sluggish arms to grope for him in the dark.

“Nooo, come back,” Harry moans and Liam just keeps shuffling further away. Undeterred, Harry rolls closer and closer until he’s pretty much on top of Liam, clinging onto him like a koala. 

“Haz, ‘m gunna fall off,” Liam tries, hanging off the edge of the bed but Harry just squeezes him tighter.

“I’ll break your fall,” Harry says, nodding his head as if to agree with himself and Liam squirms where Harry’s hair tickles the side of his face.

“You’ll break more than my fall,” Liam snorts and pushes at Harry until he finally shifts back to the middle of the bed. They’re separated for all of two seconds before Harry wraps himself around Liam again, Liam flat on his back with Harry curled up against his side, head on his chest and their legs tangled together. “Better, in’t it?” 

“I guess.” Harry mumbles, already back on the edge of sleep with Liam’s nose pressed into his hair and Liam’s arms around him, thumb stroking at his hip.

It’s quiet except for their breathing and the hums of an empty house, the distant sound of Loki pattering down the hall. Harry lifts his head for a brief moment to press a soft kiss to the underside of Liam’s jaw.

“I do quite fancy you too, Liam Payne,” Harry says into the dark and Liam’s arms tighten, thumb stilling. “Good cuddler, magical dick. Should put that on your CV too.” 

There’s a long pause before Liam huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.

“Go to sleep, Haz,” Liam says and Harry shuts his eyes. 

 

\--

 

Even without an alarm, Harry wakes up earlier than he wants to, the early glow of sunlight peeking through the edges of the curtains. He’s still tangled up with Liam but, even though Harry probably could have passed for the dead in his sleep, they’ve somehow ended up facing each other, Harry’s head tucked under Liam’s chin.

Harry pulls back, trying not to disturb Liam as he lets himself wake up slowly, yawning wide and rubbing his cheek against the pillow. Liam looks younger like this, eyelashes fanned across his cheeks and eyelids fluttering where he’s chasing a dream, the subtle lines in his face smoothed out. 

Harry exhales softly, trying to stretch his legs where they’re trapped between Liam’s and Liam makes a sleepy soft noise, scrunching his nose, eyes blinking open sluggishly.

“Creepy,” Liam’s mumbles as his eye’s focus on Harry and Harry grins, half hidden from where his face is pressed into the pillow. 

“Morning,” Harry answers, his voice rough around the edges from lack of use. Liam smiles as if he’s just realised that Harry’s next to him before he’s slipping his eyes shut again, shuffling closer so their faces are centimetres away from each other. 

“Times’it?” Liam questions, jolting when Harry presses his cold feet against Liam’s. Harry giggles, whispering an apology but Liam just shrugs halfheartedly, letting Harry wiggle his feet between Liam’s legs for warmth. 

“Dunno,” Harry offers helpfully, moving his arms from where they’re tucked up against his chest to slip under Liam’s t-shirt, fingers pressing against Liam’s warm skin. Liam’s like a personal heater and it works out perfectly for Harry who has the worst circulation ever, he’s practically a walking talking icicle. “S’early though.”

“Too early,” Liam nods, his nose brushes against Harry’s and Harry nudges back. Harry doesn’t know if they’re at the point where morning-breath kisses are okay and not gross but he’s willing to give it a try. “What time do you have to be in?” 

“Not ‘til after lunch,” Harry answers and Liam makes a noise of content. 

“Good,” Liam says, his lips are all puffy and Harry can’t help but lean in and ghost a kiss over them. Liam smiles, eyes still closed and he nudges Harry’s nose with his own again, tilts his head until their lips meet properly, warm and soft and lazy. 

There’s a whole stretch of morning in front of them and the thought is thrumming in the pit of Harry’s stomach, blossoming warmth as Liam kisses him back, sloppy presses of their tongues and lips as they both slip into it. 

And then Harry’s stomach takes that opportunity to growl loudly, cutting into the silence.

“Woops,” Harry grins, sheepish when Liam’s laugh breaks off the kiss. “The beast has awoken.” 

“I hope you mean your stomach and not your-- you know.” Liam drops his gaze pointedly and Harry can’t believe Liam fucked him into the mattress just hours ago and he can’t even say the word.

“My penis, Liam,” Harry offers and Liam scrunches up his nose, pinching Harry’s side.

“You want breakfast?” Liam asks, cupping Harry’s jaw and rubbing his thumb over his cheek. 

“Mmmm,” Harry answers, he hasn’t had a proper fry up in ages and his stomach growls again at the thought. “Sounds like there’s no other choice.” 

“I’ll need to pop to the shops quick.” Liam says although he makes no move to leave.

“I can go if you want,” Harry offers although the last thing he wants to do is leave the warmth of the bed.

“It’s alright, means I can take Loki out too,” Liam says and starts to untangle himself from Harry. Stalling halfway through, Liam steals a quick kiss but Harry presses back before he can move, keeping Liam there with a hand on his arm and Liam gets distracted by it, hand pressed to Harry’s chest. Harry’s stomach growls again and Liam pulls back completely, frowning at Harry’s belly. “Okay, _okay_ I’m going.” 

Harry watches Liam as he rolls out of bed, tugs on a pair of jeans and throws on a hoodie too, starting to search through his desk for his wallet. Wiggling around, Harry curls himself over the warm spot Liam left and pulls the covers up over his mouth, leaving the tip of his nose poking out. 

“Want anything in particular?” Liam asks, once he’s pocketed his wallet and his phone.

“No,” Harry answers, muffled. “Just be quick.” 

Liam smiles before he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and makes for the door. Harry buries himself completely under the covers and shuts his eyes. 

 

\--

 

He doesn’t remember dozing off but when Harry wakes for the second time that morning he feels a little more groggy, like maybe he’s slept too much now. Checking his phone it tells him it’s only half nine and he frowns at it, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

There’s a cup of tea by the bed and Loki’s somehow made his way in, curled up by Harrys feet. Harry sits up, letting the sheets pool around his waist as he absentmindedly runs his hands through Loki’s fur, reaching for his tea. It’s still warm, which means the crashing in the kitchen is probably Liam and not a burglar, which is enough for Harry to set the cup down, pull back the covers and clamber out of bed. 

The hoodie Liam had lent him yesterday is draped over the desk chair and Harry grabs it on his way out of the bedroom, pulling it over his head. He’d slept in nothing but boxers and the hoodie’s big enough that it hangs just under his bum, stopping at his thighs. 

The smell of bacon frying hits him as soon as he leaves the room, padding quietly down the hallway. He’s just about to open the door when he hears Liams voice above the crackling of food cooking and he pauses, hand over the door knob.

“Yeah, yeah he’s better,” Liam says and he must be on the phone because Harry can’t hear the other side of the conversation before Liam replies, “it’s not that easy, Louis.”

Harry’s heart picks up for a second and he feels like maybe he should let Liam know he’s there, slam the door open or yawn loudly as he enters the room but he can’t move.

“There just hasn’t been a right time to bring it up,” Liam continues and then yelps just a second after the sound of oil popping. “‘Course I still want to help him.” 

Harry’s stomach drops, he knows he’s still left half in the dark but there’s definitely something going on and although it might not be Liam harbouring a secret family, it’s still something.

“Okay, okay,” Liam sighs and Harry finally pushes the door open and it swings silently. Liam’s bent over the stove, phone held between his ear and shoulder and he’s poking at some eggs with a spatula. Harry wishes he were happier to see the sight. “I’ll text you later.” 

Liam hangs up and turns the stove off, running his hand over his face before dropping his phone on the counter. Harry takes one step, two steps into the kitchen but can’t really find any words to say. It takes a few seconds before Liam notices Harry stood in the doorway and he perks up.

“Morning babe,” Liam grins, wiping his hands on a tea towel, surprisingly chipper when he adds, “I burnt your breakfast.” 

Harry wants to smile and cross the distance between them and kiss Liam in thanks, wants to sit down and eat breakfast and tuck their ankles together as Harry tries to steal extra baked beans of Liam’s plate. Harry wishes he’d woken up a few minutes later.

“Who was on the phone?” Harry asks, dreading to hear the answer. “Could hear you talking.” 

“Oh,” Liam says and he looks down before turning around to plate the eggs, “just work, one of the interns broke the photocopier. Still no fire though, so it’s all good.” 

Liam’s a shit liar, he’s an awfully bad liar and Harry wishes he never had to learn that.

“Liam,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice steady and there must be something in his tone because Liam turns back around. “Liam, what’s going on?” 

“With what?” Liam says, eyebrows pulled up in confusion.

“I heard--” Harry takes a breath to steady himself, “on the phone. You were talking to Louis. Saying you wanted to help me.” 

“Haz,” Liam says and he takes a step forward but seems to think better of it when he catches sight of Harry’s face, “it’s not like that.” 

“Then explain it to me because I’m pretty bloody confused,” Harry shoots back. He rarely gets angry, couldn’t even remember the last time he properly yelled at someone but there’s nothing he hates more than being lied to and his blood has run cold.

“It’s--” Liam cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his beard before gathering himself, starting again, “part of the charity stuff I do at work is trying to give back the community,” Liam begins, “like helping out the town hall and sponsoring events. One of them is a grant we give out to small businesses that are-- ones that are struggling. To try and help them get back on their feet.” 

“What?” Harry whispers. He remembers Liam telling him about his work but he’s never gone into detail about it, only just skimmed over it. 

“Louis, Niall and Zayn wanted me to tell you about it. It’ll work, Haz. You can get out of debt and you can refurbish and you can start again, you can carry on what your Aunt started properly,” Liam says and he sounds so hopeful and Harry hurts all over.

“Is that why-- is that the reason we’re-- we’ve got this? Because you feel like you’re _helping_ me?”

“What-- no, Harry, it’s--” Liam fumbles and Harry shakes his head.

“Do you get off on the fact that you think you’re _saving_ me?” Harry’s trying so, so hard to stop his voice from trembling but it’s not working. Liam physically recoils at that, like Harry’s words have slapped him.

“Harry, listen to me,” Liam tries again, almost pleading and Harry digs his nails into his hands where he’s clenched his fists. “I wanted to-- I came to the bakery because Niall and Louis pretty much pleaded with me. They care for you so bloody much, Haz, and I had to see what all the fuss was about. I got it, as soon as I walked in and you smiled at me, I got why they wanted to help you. And then this happened and you made me fall for you so quickly and-- there was just never a good time.” 

“Wait,” Harry closes his eyes, tries to not let Liam’s hurt expression deter him because Harry feels like his chest is caving in. “The first day-- the first time you came in. It’s been since then?” 

“Yes,” Liam answers, “when they came to bring the free samples, they saw a notice in the building and pretty much stormed my office.”

And God, it all makes fucking sense now. 

“The bloody fifty pound note. That was the first thing, wasn’t it? The first little act of charity for the poor hopeless kid who’s in way over his head.” Harry clenching his fists so tight he can’t feel his fingers.

“What?” 

“The first time you came in, you left it. I completely forgot about it but that was it, right? Then there’s the coat and always insisting to pay and-- the reason they made me invite you to Louis’ birthday.” All the pieces are fitting into place and Harry wants to leave, he needs to leave. No matter how much Liam explains, he doesn’t feel any better. “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you’ve known for months, back when I wasn’t even doing that bad. You probably loved it, waiting for that moment when you could be-- you could be my fucking _Batman_ or whatever. Or that you watched me cry my bloody eyes out, run myself sick over it and didn’t think to once mention it, that you had a solution.” 

“I didn’t know if you’d take it, Harry. It’s so easy to see that bakery means everything to you, I didn’t know if you trusted me,” Liam answers, his voice sounds so, so small and Harry wants to curl up and pretend that this isn’t happening. 

“So, you were just getting closer to me so I would trust you,” Harry whispers, “so I would take your money and fawn over you and make _you_ feel good.” 

“You’re wrong,” Liam answers, suddenly harsh and Harry flinches. Liam backtracks then, seems to gather himself before he continues, voice steady, “I like you, Harry. I really bloody do, more than I’ve liked someone in a long, _long_ time. I can’t even begin to apologise, I don’t-- I should’ve told you from the start.” 

“Yeah, well,” Harry pauses and runs a hand through his hair, taking a step back, “you didn’t.”

He doesn’t glance back at Liam as he walks out of the kitchen, holds himself together as he hastily grabs his clothes from Liam’s room, pulling them on. Loki makes a sad, whimpering noise from the bed and Harry’s breath hitches as he fumbles for his phone on the bedside table and tries to ignore the rumpled sheets, the cup of tea half empty.

Liam doesn’t try to stop him as he storms down the hallway and Harry slams the front door behind him. It feels like they’re over when they barely got to start. 

 

\--

 

It’s raining, of course it’s fucking pissing it down and Harry’s completely drenched by the time he gets to the bakery. He’d considered going home, considered curling up on his hard lumpy mattress and never, ever leaving but it’s not just Liam who’s hurt him, who’s kept things from him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Loch Ness Monster risen from it’s watery depths,” Louis says as soon as he pushes through the door. There’s no customers, which is just bloody brilliant, and Zayn’s sat at the counter, Niall emerging from the kitchen presumably after hearing the bell over the front door. Harry assumes Liam hasn’t told Louis that Harry knows yet.

Harry doesn’t know how to start, his heads still swimming and trying to replay every little thing about the past few months with the thought of them knowing this big secret. 

“You--” Harry tries but it feels like it’s all catching up to him now that he’s in front of the three people closest to them. He wants a hug and he wants to cry on Zayn’s shoulder while Niall sings stupid folk tones to cheer him up as Louis makes him a perfect cup of tea and he _can’t_. 

“Harry, babe, what’s wrong?” Zayn asks, clearly sensing that he’s worse for wear.

“You lied to me,” Harry starts, he’s freezing and his teeth are chattering. “You knew about Liam and you lied to me.” 

“Harry--” Niall starts and Harry shakes his head, cutting him off.

“No, you saw me go fucking mushy eyed over Liam and you _knew_ ,” Harry says. He tries to remember a time he’s ever been angry at any of them and he’s coming up blank.

“We tried to get him to tell you,” Niall tries again.

“ _You_ could’ve told me, _you_ could’ve not gone behind my back,” Harry shoots back.

“We didn’t think you’d go for it,” Louis says and Harry really wishes she hadn’t spoken up because it’s so, so hard to not cry now. “You barely tell us what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Harry retorts. There’s a puddle forming around him on the floor.

“Of course we’re bloody worried, Harry!” Louis says with a tone of exasperation in her voice, Niall’s got his hand curled around her waist for support and Harry feels sick. “Do you think we don’t notice how tired you are? How hard you work yourself? Hear you pleading on the phone?”

“And you _still_ didn’t think to tell me?” Harry argues and he feels like he’s talking in circles. “Just carried on letting me like Liam more and more? Was it _funny_?” 

“Dont be so fucking ridiculous Harry,” Zayn finally pipes up and it’s harsh and Zayn seems to second-guess himself as soon as it’s left his mouth but Harry’s lungs are tightening and he struggles to inhale his next breath.

“Ridiculous? You’re my best friends.” He’s getting light-headed, fingers tingling from the way he’s breathing so quickly and Zayn pushes off his chair, taking a step forward. Louis’ eyes are pleading, desperate and Niall’s looking lost and Harry can’t look at any of them, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Babe, _breathe_ ,” Zayn gentles, his hand starting to reach for him and Harry takes a step back. He can’t take their comfort right now when he feels like they’ve all stabbed him in the back.

“I need to--” Harry takes a deep breath and then another, “I need to go.” 

He doesn’t slam the door this time, just quietly leaves and calmly unlocks his bike from where he left it yesterday and lets the wind beat the rain into his face.

 

\--

 

Harry cycles and cycles, frozen to the bone, left without a coat because the only one he currently owns is the one Liam gave him. He has absolutely no idea where he is, feeling like he’s cycled to Scotland and he probably looks like a lunatic to the cars passing him by but he really can’t find it in himself to care. He just needs to stop his limbs from thrumming and he’s hoping that the burn in his legs and his back and the icy tightness of his lungs will distract him from the thoughts in his head.

He ends up in a park. It’s empty and Harry hadn’t even noticed how dark it's gotten, street lamps illuminating just the edges of the grassy patch. Slowing down, he stops his bike and pushes it to the side, lets it fall with a clatter as he tries to regain his footing, legs trembling. The bench he sits down on is just one big puddle now, wet soaking through his jeans, and he rests his elbows on his knees, buries his head in his hands and thinks, ‘ _fuck_.’

 

\--

 

It’s late by the time Harry gets home. He’s muddy and cold and wet and the heating isn't working again; he shivers the whole way down the hallway. Zayn’s bedroom light is on, music coming quietly through the door and Harry hesitates for a split second. 

He knows he went into overdramatics, that he could’ve handled it better but he’s embarrassed and hurt and all he really wants is a hug. The music stops inside Zayn’s room followed by the rustling of movement and Harry rushes to the bathroom before Zayn can catch him.

Curled up under the covers, lights off and the rain pattering quietly on the window, he finally dares to check his phone. There’s so many missed calls and texts and Harry’s chest tightens up again because they’ve all tried to contact him, there are even missed calls from Perrie and Jade-- although most are from Niall. But the latest one is from Louis, who’d gone from apologetic to yelling to worried within the span of fourteen texts. 

‘ _Where are you? Zayn said you’re not at home. I’m worried. Just text me please._ ’ 

Harry bites his lip and closes it, doesn’t think his fingers could even handle typing right now. There’s one lone voicemail sat in his inbox and he holds his breath as he dials, slowly lifting it to his ear. 

‘ _Hi-- I, Hi Harry. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from but,_ ’ there’s a pause and Harry still hasn’t let out his held breath, ‘ _Louis told me you weren’t at home and no-one’s heard anything from you and-- just. Please, please let me know you’re okay. Even if it’s just to tell me to piss off. Okay. I’ll-- I’ll speak to you later._ ’

Harry closes his eyes, lets the automated robotic tone of his voicemail list off the options. Repeat, save, delete. He hits three, deleting the message. 

He’s not sure if Zayn knows he’s home yet, unsure whether Zayn heard the floorboards creaking under his feet as he padded through the flat so he thumbs opens his texts again, finding Louis’. He types out five different responses, deleting all of them before he finally decides on texting back a simple, ‘ _I’m okay._ ’ 

His phone buzzes with a new notification immediately and Harry ignores it, stuffs it under his pillow before pulling the covers tighter round his head.

 

\--

 

It turns out avoiding your best friends who you spend half your days wrapped around is extremely hard. Harry double, triple checks to make sure Zayn is fast asleep when he leaves in the morning, tiptoes his way through his morning routine before shutting the door at the slowest rate he can manage. He’d barely slept, managed maybe an hour or two before his alarm was piercing through his uneasy dream. He’s slow and sluggish and he almost rides his bike into a ditch several times.

The bakery makes it harder to avoid them. Harry had thought maybe Niall and Louis wouldn’t come in for their shifts, but bang on twelve Harry catches a flash of Louis’ ponytail as she passes the shop’s glass front and he rushes to the kitchen, locking the door. She doesn’t try to force him out, doesn’t try to yell through the door until he gives in, she just knocks, two short thuds as a ‘hello’ and that’s the only thing he hears from her. 

Everything’s so routine that he can bake without really paying attention, going through the day in an almost zombie-like state as he does what’s needed. He waits until he hears a customer come in to distract Louis before slipping out of the kitchen, sliding the cakes onto the shelf before disappearing again without a word. 

Niall comes in at two, just as scheduled and Harry can hear their quiet murmuring as he tries to ice happy smiling faces onto a tray of gingerbread men. They’re looking a little droopy, more melancholy than full of joy. 

“Has he talked to you?” He can hear Niall ask Louis through the door and he squeezes the icing tube a little too hard-- This gingerbread man will just have to have one eye significantly larger than the other. 

“No, not yet,” Louis answers and her voice is so quiet, small. “Just been in the kitchen all day. Zayn said he didn’t hear him come in last night and didn’t hear him leave this morning.”

“Anything from Liam?” Niall asks. He’s probably got her tucked up against his front and a hand rubbing her back. Harry wishes he had Niall, he’s the best at cuddles and comfort and it’s been less than a day and he already misses them all. But he still feels slightly like an open wound. 

“He’s upset, angry with himself,” Louis says and Harry drops the icing tube, pressing his palms flat against the counter to keep him steady. “Giving Harry his space, though. Thought I’d take that method too.” 

“He’ll come round, jus’ takes some time,” Niall soothes and Harry’s pretty sure they know he’s listening, they always make fun of him singing while he bakes, they know the walls aren’t soundproof. “I sent him ‘bout thirty texts saying sorry and I’m gunna send thirty every day ‘til he forgives me.” 

“Ridiculous,” Louis laughs and Harry can imagine Niall lighting up as soon as he makes her smile. “We really messed up though. He’s never yelled at me before.” 

There’s a pause and Harry’s sure he’s had enough of that conversation, his head’s already a mess and it’s just making it worse. He turns up the radio, drowning them out and tries to fix the angry gingerbread man he’s just iced. 

 

\--

 

Harry’s silence lasts for all of four days. He’s just wiping up the kitchen counters, finished washing all the trays and waiting for Louis to leave so he can sort the front of the shop out before he closes. The bell over the door goes after a second followed by the sound of the door clicking shut and then silence.

He waits for a beat before unlocking the kitchen door, pushing it open. Louis’ standing by the front door, looking tired and sad, arms crossed over her chest and her face set with determination.

“Bollocks,” Harry says, unable to really think of anything else to say. He’s frozen halfway through the doorway and he could maybe make a run for it but Louis would probably chase him and despite her shorter legs, she’d catch him.

“Harry Edward Styles,” she starts and although she’s lifting her chin in defiance and setting her shoulders back, she still sounds wary, like she doesn’t know just how to talk to him. “I wanna give you your space and time to think about everything but, you know what? I’m going to be selfish. I’m sick of not seeing your ridiculous face and you missed the latest episode of Made in Chelsea and I had no-one to yell to about how fucking obnoxious Spencer was.” 

“Louis--”

“No, still talking, wait your turn. I’m sorry, I’m really, _really_ bloody sorry and I miss my best mate and I understand if you don’t want to talk to me-- but not really, because we _were_ just trying to help. And also I need you so I don’t know if I’m going to let you ignore me, really.” 

She stops then, face slightly flushed and strands of her hair have fallen across her face, pulled out of her ponytail where she was fiddling with it when she was ranting and Harry loves her so much. He keeps silent for a second, watching her fiddle with the bottom of her t-shirt and tap her foot nervously and Harry can’t hold it much longer.

“Are you quite finished?” he asks, with a tentative grin, the first time he’s smiled in days and Louis’ jaw drops before she literally bristles.

“You bloody massive bellend,” she yells but she’s always has the worst pokerface and she’s grinning back in seconds. “You scared the living daylights out of me. Niall said he’d punch you if I kept crying and I didn’t want to see that. He’d destroy you.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Harry frowns, Niall’s tiny. 

“Yes he would,” Louis counters and-- well, maybe in defense of Louis he would. Tiny but vicious. 

“Wait, you cried?” Harry asks, starting to walk around the counter. 

“No, who said that?” She shoots back quickly, scowling, although her eyes are even glistening now. 

Harry huffs out a laugh because she’s positively ridiculous and it’s everything he adores about her. Before she can say anything else, he launches himself at her and wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight.

“I’m still really pissed off at you,” he says as she worms her arms around him and clings back. “We don’t keep secrets, Lou.” 

“I know, it was stupid,” Louis says back, voice muffled by the way her mouths pressed against Harry’s chest. “We thought that Liam could just come in and mention it and you’d apply for the grant and you’d stop looking so sad all the time. We didn’t consider the fact that Liam’s completely ‘Your Type’.” 

“I have a type?” 

“Tall, handsome, painfully nice,” Louis answers. “Liam’s everyone’s type.” 

Harry buries his nose in Louis’ hair. Liam probably is everyone’s type; Harry’s not sure how you could know him and not fall a little in love with him-- but they’ve both ballsed that all up, really. He’s still hurt, still a little angry but he was terrible to Liam too, caught up in the moment and he feels awful.

Harry finally pulls back, but keeps his hand on Louis’ side. Louis reaches up and runs a hand over his hair and pats his cheek.

“Now,” she says, moving her hand from Harry’s cheek to take his hand and tug him towards the sofas, “we’re going to sort this whole mess out.” 

“It’s not for you to sort out, Lou,” Harry frowns and she gives him this long, thoughtful look before she smacks him upside the head. “Heyyy!” 

“I’m done with this, absolutely fed up. You’ve tried to do it yourself and quite honestly it hasn’t done much,” Louis says and Harry winces even though she’s technically correct. “I know you think you’re taking up all our time, but turns out you’re a pretty bloody big part of all of our lives. Have you ever seen me doing _anything_ I didn’t want to do?” 

Harry stays silent, slightly terrified that Louis’s going to hit him again if he says anything wrong.

“Exactly. So, first you’re going to make up with Niall-- he’s coming here once he’s finished at the college. Then you’re going to go home and talk to Zayn,” Louis says and Harry hesitantly nods. “I know you’re still angry but we’ve wasted enough time faffing about. So, tomorrow you’re going to see Liam and--” 

“No, Louis. I-- I can’t do that,” Harry interjects.

“So, you’re completely done with him?” Louis asks and Harry makes a frustrated noise, burying his face in his hands as he shakes his head ‘ _no_ ’. “Then, what’s the problem?” 

“‘M’embarrassed,” Harry mumbles into his hands.

“Embarrassed?” Louis asks, sounding genuinely shocked. “ _You’re_ embarrassed? Harry, I’ve heard you use chat up lines you learnt on the internet, several times. You made up a dance routine to Call me Maybe and actually performed it on a table in the middle of a pub.” 

“This is different,” Harry whines, “I said some proper dickish things to him.” 

“And he probably deserved some of it,” Louis says, “and now you’ve realised that, you can both apologise and kiss and makeup.” 

Harry doesn’t really have an answer. The thought of seeing Liam again is making his cheeks burn but he’s saved from the thought when the front door slowly opens. Harry lifts his head.

“Hello,” Niall says tentatively, still holding onto the door in case he needs to make a quick getaway, Harry assumes. Niall looks between him and Louis as if trying to read the situation and Harry’s trying to keep a straight face, Niall in the face of danger is like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello,” Harry answers, trying to sound nonchalant but he can’t hold it for long, his lips quirking up.

“Oh, you tosser,” Niall cries but it’s followed by a cackle, the door slamming shut behind him as he takes a leap for the sofa and lands on Harry. They’re a mess of limbs and Niall trying to kiss every inch of Harry’s face.

“Get off meee,” Harry yells, trying to catch his breath as Niall lands another sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.

“Nah, I’m apologising ya big ol’ eejit,” Niall says but he finally stops kissing Harry, just hugs his head instead. Louis’ looking at them with a mixture of joy and fond disbelief and Niall reaches out an arm to bring her into the pile too. “We’re good, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah we are,” Harry nods, he’s read all of Niall’s one hundred and twenty apology texts and he doesn’t need anymore; he’s never been able to hold a grudge and it’s amazing he lasted a whole hour, let alone a few days.

“Sick,” Niall nods and it’s just as easy as that.

“My boys back together,” Louis says, feigned wistful tone and Harry pokes at whatever body part he can reach first. It turns out to be her boob. She slaps his hand. 

“I should probably head home,” Harry gets out through a mouthful of Niall’s hair but he makes no move to try and untangle himself, “think Zayn’s finished uni and I wanna get back before he realises I ate all his Wotsits as revenge.” 

“Oh Harry,” Louis says solemnly and Niall pet’s Harry’s hair, “he’s going to kill you.”

 

\--

 

Harry knocks on Zayn’s door twice before he pushes it open, peeking his head round. 

“Hi,” Harry whispers. Zayn’s laid out on his bed, books strewn across it and his laptop perched on his lap. Harry had forgot about his impending deadline and it makes him feel all the more terrible. 

Usually, he’ll sit up with Zayn and keep him company as he works, usually bake him his favourite doughnuts to keep him alive and periodically shakes him awake to stop him from falling asleep head first in a palette of paint. 

“Hey, come in,” Zayn says, doesn’t even glance up as he chews on the end of a pencil, scrolling through something on his laptop.

Harry takes a tentative step inside before settling on the very edge of Zayn’s bed. Zayn looks up then, as the mattress sags under Harry’s weight. He sighs, pushing some of the books off the bed next to him and reaches for Harry’s arm. “Don’t be a dickhead, get in.” 

With all the gracefulness of a newborn lamb, Harry scrambles up the bed and shimmies his way under the covers, tucking himself against Zayn when Zayn lifts his arm. Zayn’s bed is so much comfier since it’s not a pile of broken wood like Harry’s. 

“How’s it going?” Harry asks, voice quiet as Zayn continues using his laptop one-handed, his other hand stroking through Harry’s hair.

“Should be done soon, just gotta write the report,” Zayn answers and he hits save on the document before shutting his laptop and placing it on the floor next to his bed. 

“You don’t have to stop working because of me,” Harry protests.

“Nah, it’s alright. Getting a headache,” Zayn reasons, wrapping his other arm around Harry as well and tangling their legs together. “’m sorry for not telling you. Told Lou and Niall it was a terrible idea but do they ever listen, really?” 

Harry laughs then, knows that Louis’s unbelievably determined when she sets her mind on something and Niall would probably follow Louis into a bottomless pit if it meant making her happy. Harry gets that, he’d do it for any of them too.

“I’m sorry for being a mopey twat,” Harry offers back and Zayn snorts out a laugh, ruffling his hair. 

“Nah, you’re alright,” Zayn falls quiet for a second before he speaks up again. “I, uh, went round Liam’s the other day.”

“You did?” Harry says after a second, his fingers curling into the material of Zayn’s top where it’s resting on Zayn’s chest. He’s not too surprised, they’ve all grown so close that even if-- even if it all ended, he knows Liam would still be around. Creepily involved in each other’s lives is their thing, it seems.

“Mmm,” Zayn hums as an answer, taking his time like he’s carefully piecing his words together. “He was a bit of a mess, actually. It was nine in the morning and he was eating a choc dip for breakfast.” 

Harry bites his lip and buries his head further into Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn sighs and rubs a soothing hand down his arm.

“I know what he did-- _We_ did was shitty but you did a proper number on him too,” Zayn continues. 

“I know,” Harry mumbles, sound as petulant and childish as a five year old. He’s just had so many pep talks today and he’s slightly fed up. He just wants to cuddle now, talk later. 

“Okay, okay,” Zayn says, giving up when Harry doesn’t say anything more. “But in the words of the famous Disney classic, _Be a man_.”

“Does Perrie know how much of a loser you are?” Harry asks but he’s laughing at how terrible it was. It feels so good to be happy again even if the grey cloud over his head isn’t completely gone.

“It’s one of my many charms.” Zayn says with a sniff and Harry just smiles, enjoying the quiet for a moment.

Shuffling out from under Zayn’s arm, Harry rolls out of the bed, stretching.

“I’m gunna make some dinner, you eaten yet?” Harry offers and Zayn already looks half-asleep, he’s probably going to pass out in a second and then wake up at 2am and carry on working until the early hours. 

“No,” Zayn answers, voice sickly sweet as he bats his eyelashes. 

“Ugh, don’t do that, you know I’ll make you some anyway,” Harry sighs and Zayn grins, blowing Harry a kiss before pulling the covers up to his chin. 

 

\--

 

Even though Harry feels slightly back on track, half the weight lifted off his shoulders, there’s still one gaping hole in his chest that he’s finding impossible to ignore. The lasagna’s cooking in the oven, he’s flipped through everything on telly and he still can’t stop glancing at his phone where he’s left it on the coffee table. He throws the remote down, pushing up off the sofa before grabbing it.

It rings twice before Liam picks up.

“Harry,” Liam breathes and Harry feels all the air rushing out of his lungs, his hands are shaking a little. “Harry? You there?” 

“Yeah, sorry. Hi-- hey,” Harry rushes because if Liam hangs up now there’s no way he’s getting the courage to pick up the phone again. 

“How’ve you been?” Liam asks.

“Okay,” Harry answers, carefully. “Been better.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, so quiet and even hearing his voice is too much.

“Can I come over?” Harry finally says and there’s a long, long silence. “I mean-- If you’re not busy. Sorry, this was stupid I--”

“No, no!” Liam interjects, “Please. Please come, do you need me to pick you up?” 

“It’s fine. I’ll get the bus,” Harry says, he only has enough change for a one way ticket but he doesn’t mention that.

“I’ll see you in a bit then, yeah?” Liam asks, the same hint of hopefulness in his voice that Harry feels. 

“Yeah. See you,” Harry hangs up, stares at his phone for a second before jumping into action. 

He pulls on a cleaner pair of jeans and a jumper, fiddles with his hair for all of two seconds before just pulling a beanie over it.

“Zayn!” he yells as he trips into his shoes. “I’m going out, turn the oven off in about ten minutes.” 

There’s a muffled sound of confirmation and Harry takes that as good enough, grabbing his keys and his wallet.

“Harry, wait!” he hears and Harry pauses halfway out the door.

“Yeah?” Harry shouts back, wanting to just leave before his confidence streak bottles. 

“You must be swift as a coursing river!” Zayn sings through the wall. “With all the strength of a great typhoon!” 

Harry shakes his head, laughing as he locks of the door behind him.

 

\--

 

The bus ride to Liam’s is fifteen long minutes and by the time he gets outside Liam’s block of flats he’s turned around and walked back to the bus stop three times. Harrys awful with confrontation and he’s really had his fill today, but even though they were just the four of them for a long time, it seems he can’t have Niall and Louis and Zayn without Liam now. 

Liam buzzes him in straight away and before he knows it he’s outside Liam’s door, hand hovering. He knocks.

Even with bags under his eyes, hair product-less and flat against his forehead and in the baggiest, threadbare t-shirt, Liam looks gorgeous and Harry bites his lip. 

“Hey,” Liam says, looking hesitantly happy and Harry’s just staring at him. He probably looks crazed; he wouldn’t be surprised if Liam’s pressing a hidden security button. “Come in.” 

Harry follows him silently inside, shutting the door behind him. Liam leads him down the hallway, pausing at the kitchen before he rethinks himself and goes for the next door, leading into the living room. 

It’s so awkward, Harry sitting gingerly on the edge of Liam’s sofa as Liam sits in the armchair opposite. It’s worse though because they never had that awkwardness, the stilled pauses and lack of things to say-- they just worked and it feels like it’s all been unravelled. 

“Do you want a drink?” Liam asks, breaking the silence. There’s a half empty beer sweating on the coffee table and Harry watches a droplet roll it’s way down the side of it.

“I-- no, it’s okay,” Harry answers. 

Another long silence and Harry finally pulls himself together, looking up at Liam.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says just as Liam says, “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

It startles a laugh out of Harry and Liam smiles too, genuine, eyes brighter than a second ago. 

“Look, Liam--” Harry starts but Liam cuts him off, people keep doing that today. 

“Harry no, let me,” Liam says, shifting forward on the armchair. “I _am_ sorry about not telling you-- But you have to know I didn’t want to help you for my own sake, at all.”

“I know,” Harry says quietly. “I was just angry, I didn’t mean any of that it was-- I was being a dick.” 

“A little,” Liam says, a small smile on his face and Harry huffs a laugh. “But I deserved it, I think. It’s just hard for me to meet people who aren’t absolute ponces and only care about my bank balance and I got wrapped up in it, in you. You’re very distracting.” 

Harry ducks his head, scrunching up his nose and fiddling with the frayed thread at the rip in his jeans. He hadn’t truly realised how miserable he’d been without Liam and it’s hitting him now.

“I should’ve asked for help sooner,” Harry mumbles, “should’ve told the others what was going on instead of trying to hide it. It’s not just on you, or them. Think we all need to learn a little about communication.” 

Liam laughs and Harry bites his lip.

“The offers still on the table, Haz,” Liam says, gentle, as if mentioning it will make Harry explode again. “Whatever happens, it’s still there. Even if-- even if this,” he gestures between them, “didn’t happen, I would’ve still offered.” 

Harry knows it’s probably his only way out, the only way he’ll be able to finish what he began and he’s trying so hard to not think of it as a cop out. He drops his gaze, fingers still twiddling a loose thread as he composes himself. 

“I think,” Harry starts. “I think I’ll, uhm, take it-- the offer.”

“Yeah?” Liam smiles, practically beaming and Harry digs his fingers into his thigh.

“I trust you and your company not to completely fuck me over and-- I can’t face having to sell the bakery,” Harry says, “but I have one request.”

“Okay,” Liam trails off, waiting for Harry to continue.

“The money. I want it to be a loan, not a grant.”

“It’s a lot of money, Harry,” Liam tries but Harry shakes his head.

“That’s exactly why I want it to be a loan, I couldn’t just take it,” Harry explains, “even if I’m a hundred years old and I’m posting you the last installment in pennies I want to pay it back.” 

“Okay, okay,” Liam agrees and Harry grins then, “I’ll tell my assistant to get the paperwork ready, then it should be fine.” 

Harry feels like he’s floating, full of bubbles and ready to fly out of Liam’s six foot window. They haven’t talked about _them_ though, and he’s still uneasy about where they stand. He’d thought maybe he’d still have that stinging hurt feeling, the nauseating twist in his gut but all he really feels is the ache of missing Liam’s touch, missing everything about him that’s taken over his life.

“I, uhm. Didn’t have enough to get a return,” Harry says, waving his bus ticket. “Could I stay here tonight?” 

Liam looks at him, shocked, before he seems to shake himself out of it. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll just need to put some sheets on the guest bed but--”

“ _Liam_.” Harry says, exasperated. He stands up from the sofa and moves in front of Liam, holding out both his hands. “Can we go to bed, please?” 

Liam still seems to be slightly dazed when he takes Harry’s outstretched hands, lets Harry pull him up from the chair and lead him through the flat to Liam’s bedroom. He’s not arguing though, which is a win in Harry’s books. 

They undress quietly after brushing their teeth and cleaning their faces in comfortable silence and Liam pulls on a pair of joggers whereas Harry just leaves himself in his boxers, lifting up the corner of the duvet to crawl under. 

There feels like there’s miles of space between them when Liam settles on his side, watching Harry carefully. Maybe Harry’s read it wrong and Liam doesn’t want him back and Harry’s going to lock himself away in his room for the rest of his life. 

“Why are you so far away?” Harry whispers into the dim of the room, a repeat of just days ago and Liam bites his lip and Harry wants to shrivel away right there.

“I didn’t know if-- if that was still okay,” Liam whispers back and Harry’s stomach drops. He reaches out and takes Liam’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“I want you. I’ve missed you and I’ve been miserable and Niall threatened to maim me,” Harry rambles, “you make me so bloody happy Liam, even with everything falling apart. You’re so good to me and you make me laugh and you’re so unfairly fit, I don’t think I could stop wanting you if I tried.” 

Liam seems to take that as enough for him to shuffle closer, smile almost shy at Harry as he places a hand on Harry’s waist, the other flat against Harry’s chest.

“But no more secrets,” Harry whispers, cupping Liam’s cheek. Liam’s beard has grown out over the past couple of days and it’s rough under Harry’s hand, “and please don’t go along with anymore of Niall and Louis’ plans, no matter how convincing they sound.”

“Okay,” Liam agrees and Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “As long as you stop thinking that any of us wouldn’t go to the moon and back to help you.” 

“Okay,” Harry agrees, too. There’s a whole lot of mess that could’ve been avoided but it’s stupid to think back on it now, he’s got his best friends back and he’s got a gorgeous, lovely boy under his arm.

Harry takes his time taking everything about Liam in; the way his hair sits when he’s there’s no wax in it, the smooth skin of his neck, the birthmark splotch just next to his Adam’s apple, the way he smiles when Harry rubs his foot against Liam’s ankle. His hands still resting on Liam’s cheek and he strokes his thumb over the crinkles next to Liam’s eyes before leaning in, tasting mint when he kisses Liam.

Although it intends to be a peck, just a reassurance of where they are, he finds himself deepening it; a hot, wet slide of their mouths. It’s slow and filled with the feeling of missing someone too much, sloppy presses and no precision and it’s perfect.

Liam makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat, fingers flexing where his hand is resting on Harry’s side and he deepens the kiss again, as if he’d been holding back before to make sure Harry was certain. Rolling them over, Liam gets Harry underneath him as he licks into Harry’s mouth and Harry takes it all, lets Liam kiss him until the taste of mint is gone and it’s just them.

There’s no rush but Harry’s dizzy with how much he needs Liam, his cock already thickened up and pressing against his boxers and when Liam nips at his chin, leaves a searing mark on his neck and rolls his hips against Harry’s, Harry can barely take it. Harry reaches down between them, fumbles with the waistband of Liam’s joggers before he pulls them down and gets a hand around Liam.

“Fuck,” Liam gasps, Harry doesn’t tease just starts wanking Liam off quickly, smearing precome over Liam’s dick. “Harry, Haz you too.” 

It takes all of Harry’s willpower to take his hand away for all of thirty seconds as he pulls his own boxers down, just enough to get his dick out, the waistband around his thighs. Liam watches Harry as he brings his palm to his mouth, licks a wet line down his hand before he gets them both in his hand. Liam groans, dropping his head onto Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry starts slower this time, takes his time slicking them up with their wet and Harry’s spit and it feels fucking heavenly. Liam still has his head bowed, watching their dicks slide together and it’s understandable, they look good together, feels even better.

Picking up his pace, Harry starts thrusts his hips in time, feet planted flat on the mattress and Liam moans, his own hips jerking before he lifts his head, catching Harry’s lips in a bruising kiss.

“Missed you,” Harry hears it before he even realises it’s him saying it, and Liam kisses him again and again and again.

“Missed you too. So much,” Liam gasps, sucking another angry red mark into Harry’s chest and Harry arches into it, choking out a moan. 

Harry’s so close, can feel it in the tips of his toes and Liam doesn’t seem to be far behind, hips stuttering as he tries to meet Harry’s thrusts. 

“Wanna finish you,” Liam pants, batting Harry’s hand away and wrapping his own fingers around Harry’s dick. “Wanna see you come.”

Harry groans, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back. Liam’s so, so good, knows just how hard and quick to go to get Harry right to the edge in seconds, Harry clutching at his shoulders. 

It hits Harry so quickly, feels like it’s being ripped out of him when he finally comes and he’s fucking up into Liam’s hand, curling in on himself, shoulders lifting off the bed as Liam’s name falls off the tip of his tongue. Liam slows his hand down, squeezes the last of Harry’s orgasm out of him slowly and kisses Harry’s chest, his neck, wherever he can reach. 

Completely boneless, Harry falls back. They’re still under the covers and he’s all sweaty, covered in his come and Liam’s knelt above him, pressing kisses to Harry collarbone as he wanks himself, using Harry’s come on his hand as lube.

“Come on,” Harry whispers, lifting Liam’s face so they’re eye level, so Harry can kiss him deep and dirty. “Come for me, Liam.” 

It doesn’t take long, Harry kissing Liam, biting at his lower lip and fucking their tongues against each other as Liam jaw goes slack, right on the edge. Liam comes with a groan, muffled between their mouths and Harry can feel it splatter hot and messy all over his stomach.

Harry keeps kissing him, unable to let him go just yet and Liam keeps up lazily, coming out of his own orgasm-haze.

Later, when they’re cleaned up and wrapped around each other in the dark, Harry’s back pressed up against Liam’s chest, Liam whispers, “I’m scared of geese.”

“What?” Harry whispers back, trying to turn in Liam’s arms to give him a confused look but Liam just tightens his arms around Harry’s waist, keeping him still.

“I dunno, just think they’re all secretly evil.” 

“Is there any reason why you decided to tell me that now?” Harry laughs.

“You said no secrets,” Liam says simply and Harry feels his heart actually skip a beat, skip several beats. “I’m scared of geese, always have been. When I was little I cried for five hours straight because my sisters told me Toy Story wasn’t real. I don’t hate much in the world but I think porridge is disgusting. If I was Prime Minister I’d get it banned. Sometimes, I sing into my mirror and pretend I’m Drake.”

Harry’s smiling so hard he thinks his face might actually burst open, just split right where his cheeks are pushed up and he runs his thumb over the back of Liam’s hand where their fingers are intertwined over Harry’s stomach.

Liam pauses before he lists the next things off, much quieter. “When Niall and Louis told me what your bakery was called I laughed for about ten minutes. I saw you through the shop window before I came in, you were daydreaming and you had a green sprinkle stuck on your cheek and I think I knew I was gone for you right then.” 

Harry stills, breath caught in his throat. He has to cough to get past the lump in his throat.

“I eat lemon curd sandwiches when I’m sad because they remind me of home,” he begins and Liam squeezes his hand. “I haven’t ever watched Titanic without crying and I’ve seen it several hundred times. Even though I tell everyone my first gig was Nickleback it was actually Cascada and it’s still my favourite, I sang along so loud I lost my voice.” 

Harry trails off, his heart thudding in his chest and Liam’s fingers tracing the lines of Harry’s hands, like he’s memorising every little detail.

“I’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted more than a month,” Harry says, voice hushed, “and I’m absolutely terrified because I’m a little bit in love with you-- more than that, actually, if we’re being honest.”

Harry thinks for a second that Liam’s fallen asleep and he’s quietly hoping for it to be true, the confession hanging heavy in the air around him. But after a moment, Liam kisses the back of his shoulder, his neck, brings Harry closer against him and presses a gentle kiss to the side of his face. 

Harry falls asleep with Liam’s smile pressed to the back of his neck.

 

\--

 

Harry might as well be Maria von Trapp with the way he’s galavanting around the kitchen the next morning with Niall and Louis manning the front counter, although they’re taking it in turns to stand in the doorway and laugh at Harry, probably snapchatting videos to Zayn and Liam too. 

Even though he’d had to wake up at the arse crack of dawn, Liam kissing him into consciousness had made it entirely more pleasant. Liam hadn’t needed to go into work for a couple hours, the office not opening until later, but he’d been adamant in giving Harry a lift. 

They’d kissed in the shower and kissed over breakfast and tried to kiss goodbye after Liam helped Harry set up the kitchen but it had lasted twenty minutes too long, Harry finally having to poke Liam away with the tail end of a baguette to get him to not be late for his own job. 

He’s happy and Liam’s happy and everyone is happy and there’s a good chance that __The Rolling Scones__ isn’t going to fall through his fingers and everything’s slowly falling into place.

 

\--

 

The walk to Liam’s office takes twenty minutes; Niall, Louis and Zayn had offered to come as support but Harry’s pretty sure they just wanted to see Liam, so he’d relented. It would probably be a quicker journey if Niall hadn’t stolen Harry’s bike and plopped Louis’ on the handlebars, as they keep periodically crashing into trees and lampposts, ending up sprawled on the floor with Zayn shaking his head at them.

“Hi, we’re here to see Liam,” Harry screws up his mouth for a second, “Payne? Mr Payne… Junior?” 

The secretary gives him a pitying look, Harry’s not entirely sure how they address Liam here-- they probably don’t call him ‘ _Payno_ ’ like the rest of them do.

“Your names?” she asks. “For visitor passes.” 

“Uhm, Ha--” Harry starts but Louis forcefully pushes in front of him at the desk.

“Tony,” Louis cuts in, “Stark, that’s me. Then we’ve got Bruce Banner, Thor and Peter Parker.” 

The secretary gives Louis a very long, stern look and Harry feels like he’s about to witness something potentially frightening and life-changing but she just passes the name cards over the desk and Louis snatches hers up with a grin.

“Bruce Banner? Is that the Hulk?” Harry asks with a frown, pinning the name card to his shirt.

“Yeah,” Zayn answers, fixing _Peter Parker_ onto his, “think you earned the title after last week.” 

“Harry smash!” Louis yells and forcefully punches the button for the thirty-fourth floor. Niall’s snickering behind her, pressing his face to her shoulder and Harry doesn’t know why he bothered making up with them because they’re all mean.

Liam’s office is right at the end of the corridor, surrounded by glass walls and Harry knocks on the door twice before letting himself in. It’s weird, so weird to see the business man side of Liam when Harry mostly gets the ridiculous man child version; there’s still a hint of that here though, a giant framed _’The Dark Knight’_ movie poster displayed behind his desk.

The chair behind the desk swivels round, Liam swinging into view with his fingers steepled in front of his chin, expression blank.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he greets, monotone and then completely ruins it by giggling straight after. 

“Payno! I’ve missed ya mate!” Niall crows, trying to climb over Liam’s desk to hug him and Liam’s laughing as he pulls him in. 

“Lou, what are you doing?” Harry says, exasperated as he watches the whole room dissolve into chaos. Louis’ standing by the bookcase pulling out every book one by one before pushing it back with a frown.

“Trying to find the secret door.” Louis answers and Harry takes one deep breath and then another. He knew bringing them here was a terrible idea; even Zayn’s started helping Louis. 

Harry’s about two seconds away from turning into his name card, he turns to Liam to apologise but Liam’s already smiling at him, eyes half mooned. There’s a stack of files on his desk, his hairs messy from presumably running his fingers through it and there’s three empty cups of coffee next to him and maybe this is actually what Liam needs right now. 

Niall’s still in Liam’s lap, riffling through his desk drawers as he goes on about a footie game he watched the other night and Harry grins back at Liam, shaking his head as he goes to help Louis find the secret door.

 

\--

 

It takes them a good half hour of mucking about to finally get settled, back on track with their original reason for being there. Liam’s got all the paperwork for the loan ready and just with a signature it’ll all be done.

“Even after paying off your debts and all the repairs, you’ll need to start thinking about how you’re gonna get more business,” Liam explains and Harry nods, he knows the moneys only a short term solution for now unless he uses it properly. 

“Actually,” Zayn begins, from where him, Niall and Louis are piled on the sofa in the corner of Liam’s office, “we have some ideas.”

“What?” Harry asks, confused.

“Even though the bakery’s yours, Harry, it’s important to us too,” Zayn continues and Niall nods and Louis pulls a face which Harry knows means she’s agreeing.

“We thought your family helped you start it and, well, your other family will help ya carry it on.” Niall says and Harry feels his heart squeeze tight, unbearable and he’s pretty sure he’s in love with all of them. He hopes Liam’s going to be okay with the fact that half the money is now going towards buying a giant farm where they can all grow old together.

“We’ll all help you with the renovations,” Zayn says, “and I’ve already started some designs for your new logo and some advertising ideas.”

“I like my logo,” Harry frowns.

“It was made with clip art, H,” Zayn says, gently and he’s right, his aunt wasn’t the most technology capable lady. “It just needs some updating, but don’t worry you can keep the name. It suits you anyway, quirky and all.”

Harry rolls his eyes but he knows Zayn’s just teasing.

“I had a peek at your files,” Niall picks up the threads from Zayn, “turns out it’s been going downhill long before you owned it, Haz. Shit’s just more expensive now. But I can help you with all the numbers. You know I love that stuff, even got a new laptop the other day. Been making spreadsheets.” 

Niall’s remembered every score for every Derby game since he was old enough to watch them, and then before that. Harry’s pretty sure Niall’s dad was whispering them through his mum’s belly button when she was sleeping.

“He has,” Louis nods solemnly, “maths shouldn’t be a turn on.”

“You plus me, baby,” Niall grins, pulling Louis against him and Harry snorts out a laugh, shaking his head.

Louis looks hesitant before she speaks, gets that embarrassed tight-lipped expression Harry’s all too familiar with but Harry waits patiently, letting her tuck her hair behind her ear and play with the corner of her tattered band t-shirt.

“I was thinking-- like, with the rebrand and that I thought you could start doing live music nights,” Louis finally says. “There’s some proper sick local bands and I know you love all that hipster crap so I thought I could organise some of it for you? I know a few people from open mic nights I’ve been to and-- I don’t know, thought it could bring in a different crowd, it’s just an idea though.”

“I love it, Lou,” Harry says, he loves all their ideas, he loves that they’ve all given it proper thought and even want to help Harry in the first place. “Thank you guys so much. I don’t know what to say.”

“Alright, no need to cry,” Louis chides but her cheeks are pink and she’s beaming at him, they’re all grinning and Harry’s brimming with excitement, so ready to start afresh. 

It doesn’t feel like he’s destroying what Jenny built up. She made it her own and now Harry’s making it his. He wonders if she knew that the bakery with the squeaky door and leaking roof and flickering lights would bring him a family, bring him so much happiness amongst everything else.

“And I’m here for everything and anything else,” Liam says, “even if you want to wake me up at two in the morning to try a new cake recipe. I wouldn’t be opposed to that, at all. Quite in favour, actually.” 

Harry wants to cry, just lay out on the floor and sob into Liam’s expensive carpet. His heart feels so full he doesn’t know what to do. He just nods instead, a big dopey grin on his face and Liam smiles back.

Later, they’ll go for celebratory drinks at the pub with the grotty window and the rickety bench he and Liam sat on a night that seems so long ago. Louis’ going to try and drink Niall under the table for the hundredth time and Zayn will half-heartedly attempt to stop her but also pay for her next two drinks, and then bring her a big pint of water when she finally gives in. 

Liam will cheer Niall on and in return get a twisting pinch from Louis. Harry will hold Liam’s hand under the table between them the whole time, laugh at Zayn when Louis inevitably spills half her drink down her front and Liam will nudge Harry’s foot with his own and Harry will press his cheek against Liam’s shoulder. 

Much, much later they’ll be walking home in the early hours of the morning, after being kicked out for trying to dance on the snooker table. Louis will be up front, Zayn on her back as Niall yells the lyrics to an Irish anthem no-one but him knows, disturbing the empty high street. Harry will still be holding Liam’s hand, taking their walk slowly as Liam giggles at the other’s antics. 

They’ll stop under the amber glow of the streetlamp on the corner and Harry will tuck his cold fingers under Liam’s coat and Liam will hold Harry’s waist as he kisses him, unhurried and slow with the sound of Louis and Zayn falling face first into a bush in the background. 

Liam will tell Harry he loves him too and Harry will kiss the words out of his mouth.

For now, Harry picks up the pen on the desk, holds the paper still with his other hand and signs along the dotted line.

 

**A few months later**

The first __The Rolling Scones__ open mic night is on a sunny day in April. They’ve been open after the renovations for a couple weeks now, business steadily picking up, but they’ve been advertising the night as the official Grand Re-Opening.

Harry’s not entirely sure how, but between Zayn’s redesign and all of them using every bit of social networking they could get their hands on to advertise, __The Rolling Scones__ has turned into a bit of an artsy haven. 

There’s still Mrs Brown who comes in on a Sunday morning and buys two loaves and stays for a chat and the after school rush of tiny children who have Louis wrapped around their little fingers. But now there’s people instagramming their lattes and Harry’s had to find out what artisan coffee is. Harry’s quite enjoying it though; he’s taken to wearing a headband.

Although Harry doesn’t want to get too hopeful, it all seems to be working out and getting better at that. Even if it all goes downhill now though, Harry was there to witness Liam shirtless and chopping wood with an actual real life axe during the renovations and he’ll count that as a win.

Harry had gone a little overboard searching through vintage furniture fairs, excitedly dragging Liam behind him. The first one they went to, Harry had tried to buy thirteen different lamps and Liam had to pry them out of his hands. He loves the new look, though.

It’s completely transformed with new hardwood tables and less threadbare sofas next to the cleaned up fireplace. There’s a brand new coffee machine with ten thousand different settings, a till that you don’t have to smack several times to get the cash drawer open and Zayn’s new logo design is painted big and bright on the wall behind the counter, a growing wall of photos of customers and The Rolling Scone’s family surrounding it. 

The lights are dimmed now, candles flickering light across the room from each table and the furniture has been moved to allow enough room for a makeshift stage.

Liam shows up halfway through the first set of the night-- some international students from the college Niall teaches guitar at-- and he ducks behind the counter straightaway, passed the tray of 'Payno's Peanut Butter Muffins' displayed proudly next to the till, giving Harry a quick kiss. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Liam apologises, “Loki was being a pain, had to bring him with me. Hope that’s okay.” 

“Of course,” Harry smiles, kneeling down to pet Loki where he’s sat, tail wagging next to Liam’s feet. He yaps happily and licks at Harry’s hand. “Just put him in the staff room for now?” 

Liam nods, kisses Harry again when he’s back at eye-level and tucks Loki under his arm as he disappears into the back.

The crowd’s pretty big; Harry wasn’t expecting much for the first night but nearly every seat is taken, everyone respectfully quiet as the boys on the makeshift stage introduce their next song. Louis and Niall cheer the loudest from where they’re sharing an armchair and Zayn rolls his eyes but presses his fingers into his mouth, jostling Perrie under his arm as he whistles. The rest of their gang of friends are there too, tucked up on the loveseat. 

“They’re pretty good,” Liam whispers, coming up behind Harry and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry covers Liam’s hands with his own and leans back, letting Liam sway him to the music.

“Yeah, I think Niall and Louis want to adopt them,” Harry answers and Liam laughs, nudging Harry’s cheek with his nose. 

The next act is a female duet who, although a little obscure, get the crowd going even if it involves everyone letting out wolf howls. Harry’s laughing so hard, Liam has to hold him up and then serve the next customer for him as he sinks to the floor cackling. Then there’s a boy who looks no older than thirteen playing a ukelele and Harry wants to put him in his pocket and take him home.

Finally, Louis steps on to the stage looking tiny and hesitant in her rolled up jeans and band tee as she taps the microphone. 

“Hi everyone,” she begins, with a cough to clear her throat, “I hope you’ve all had a sick time, cheers for coming! But just before we finish we have a little present for resident baker boy Harry Styles.”

Harry pauses, eyes narrowing. He hadn’t been told about this and he goes to turn around to Liam but he’s disappeared. When Harry turns back around to the stage, Liam’s up there now with Zayn and Niall. 

“You’ve worked really hard and we know you wouldn’t take an actual gift, so we wrote you a song,” Liam says into the microphone as Niall pulls his guitar strap over his shoulder. Zayn quirks an eyebrow, grabbing the mic.

“Well, we re-wrote you a song,” Zayn corrects.

Somehow, they’ve managed to mash up Paint It Black and Hot Cross Buns and it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever heard. Liam’s beatboxing, while the rest of them harmonise and Niall plucks at his guitar and there’s some strange sort of abstract dance routine going on that Harry doesn’t really understand. 

But when the song finishes on a spectacular highnote from Zayn and Louis throws up overly enthusiastic jazz hands, Harry’s cheering louder than the rest of the room, smiling from ear to ear.

 

\--

 

It’s way past midnight when Harry finally finishes cleaning up the shop. Louis’s sprawled out on her back playing with Loki while Harry wipes down the last table, Zayn and Liam pushing one of the sofas back into place as Niall strums his guitar from his seat in the corner. Harry’s pretty sure he’s playing a folk version of Justin Bieber but he can’t be sure.

“That went pretty well, huh?” Harry says, flopping down across Liam’s lap where Liam and Zayn have taken up the sofa they’ve just moved.

“Yeah, it was alright.” Louis answers, ever-modest. Harry goes to argue but Liam just pats his leg and he relents, knowing that Louis would just ignore him either way. 

“It went amazing, Lou,” Niall says, and Louis scrunches up her face. She’d spent weeks organising it and even if she’s not showing it, Harry knows she’s ridiculously proud.

“Couldn’t have done it without Harold’s wonderful treats,” Louis reasons, “or Zayn’s siren call, Payno’s magic mouth box. Also, your fancy fingers were obviously the highlight, Neil. Don’t put yourself down.”

“Oh Tommo, you’re so sweet, marry me.” Niall blurts out, cackling and then stops. The room suddenly gets very still and Harry holds his breath.

“Nialler, I swear to god if you blurt that out one more time I’m going to throw this dog at you,” Louis says finally, but her cheeks are flushed and Harry breathes again. 

Louis’ oblivious to the fact that Niall’s been carrying round a ring for the past three weeks trying to work up the courage to propose. The only thing that really keeps getting in his way is him accidentally exclaiming it every other day; in the line for the cinema or just before she goes to the loo or when she’s got him in a headlock.

Loki makes a run for it, probably aware that Louis just used him as a threat and Louis picks herself off the floor, brushing herself off as she walks towards Niall. Niall sets his guitar to the side, cheeks still slightly red from his outburst but Louis just pinches them as she drapes herself over him.

Crisis averted, Harry turns his attention back to Liam, leaning back against his chest and letting his head fall back so his mouth is next to his ear.

“Can I come back to yours tonight?” Harry asks, although it doesn’t really need to be asked, they basically spend every night in each other’s beds. 

“Guess I could make some room for you, yeah.” Liam answers, stroking his palm up and down Harry’s arm.

“Good because I’ve been wanting to try a new recipe,” he drops his voice to a whisper, lips brushing Liam’s ear as he talks, “it involves you and me and some edible body paint.” 

“Interesting,” Liam says with a cough, fingers tightening on Harry’s side.

“You’re a shit whisperer, Styles,” Zayn says from the other side of the sofa, mouth downturned in disgust.

“Because we want you to join, Zayn. You’re the artist after all,” Liam smirks, not missing a beat as he wiggles his eyebrows and leans closer to Zayn. 

Zayn, completely unphased, grabs Liam’s face and pretends to snog the life out of him. Harry’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe when Niall and Louis, obviously feeling left out, pile on the sofa too.

Although Harry’s not completely out of the woods, he’s getting there and it’s hard for him to not be blindingly optimistic about it especially when there’s the most gorgeous, funniest, perfect boy wrapped around him, protecting him from their friend’s flailing limbs and aiming a smile at him that makes him feel on top of the world. 

\--

“Get any good pictures?” Liam asks, towel hanging low on his hips as he uses the other to rub over his hair. Harry’s sat on the window seat, blanket around his shoulders and his knees tucked up against his chest as he scrolls through the pictures on his camera. 

“Mmhm, a few,” Harry answers, staring down at a picture of the other four on stage, arms wrapped around each other as they bowed. They’re all smiling and laughing and it’s a little bit blurry, Harry only remembering at the last second to snap a picture. “You guys make a good band.”

“You should join next time, think we’d sound sick all together,” Liam says, dropping his towel to pull on a pair of joggers. Harry lifts the camera to his eye. “Oi, oi. Lenses up here please.” 

“C’moooon Liam,” Harry pleads and Liam throws a pillow at Harry before sliding under the covers before Harry can attempt to take a picture. “Your dick would look so pretty framed on the wall. Definitely get some tips for that.”

Liam pulls the duvet over his head, blocking out Harry and Harry frowns, jumping up from the window seat. The blanket falls off his shoulders as he makes his way over to the bed, straddling the Liam shaped lump.

“Liaaamm,” Harry drags his name out, camera still in hand. There’s a muffled giggle from where Harry assumes is Liam’s head and he grabs for the top of the duvet, pulling it back. 

Liam emerges, hair a damp mess around his head and with an unimpressed look on his face. Harry snaps a picture and then another until Liam’s giggling and shying away and trying to wrench the camera out of Harry’s hands.

“Stop it,” Liam says although he’s laughing, trying to force his head under a pillow to hide himself and Harry picks up the pillow and throws it off the bed.

“Just _one_ picture,” Harry tries to reason, “one tiny dick pic-- well, not tiny actually. I’ll even put a filter on it, make it look like one of those pencil sketches. Proper artsy.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Liam sighs but he’s smiling, the one still renders Harry breathless at the best of times.

“So is that a yes or…” Harry trails off and Liam takes him off-guard, steals the camera out of Harry’s hand and when Harry goes to reach for it back, Liam distracts him with a kiss. 

Harry gets him back later though, after Liam’s stretched him open and had him begging for it, he slides so slowly down on Liam’s cock that he can feel every inch of it pressing inside of him. Liam’s gripping his hips and Harry can see how hard he’s trying to keep himself still, making these little frustrated, wanting noises. They’re both so sweaty and Harry’s hands slip where they’re pressed flat against Liam’s chest as he rolls his hips. 

“Babe, faster, please.” Liam groans and Harry drops forward onto his elbows, Liam’s dick so deep inside of him as he ruts against him, Harry’s cock trapped, sliding against their sweaty stomachs. He kisses Liam and sucks on his neck and Liam’s tugs on Harry’s hair just on the good side of painful.

Harry’s teasing works for a few moments until Liam, frustrated with the pace, flips them over. He manages to rearrange Harry so he’s on his side, Liam spooned up behind him with a hand gripping his thigh to spread his leg up.

It’s so fucking good like this, Liam’s chest pressed against the length of Harry’s back and Harry can’t do more than tilt his head back and let Liam bite at his shoulder and his neck as he dicks inside of him, hard and fast. Liam’s whispering filthily in his ear, telling Harry how good he takes him, how tight he is, how gorgeous he is, how Liam’s going to fill him up after Harry’s comes on his dick.

“Liam,” Harry almost sobs, overwhelmed and unable to even think straight. Liam’s holding him so tight and Harry tries his best to turn his head around enough to kiss Liam and it’s sloppy and wet and there’s the distant thud, thud, thud of the headboard smacking against the wall. “Liam, fuck. Love you. Make me feel so good.”

Harry’s stomach swoops and Liam fists Harry’s dick to tug him off in time with his thrusts and there’s no going back as he arches against Liam and spills all over Liam’s fingers and Liam follows a second later, hand rubbing the mess into Harry’s stomach as he comes inside of him.

When Harry’s pulse has finally slowed and he’s a touch cleaner, head on Liam’s chest, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the lines tattooed on the side of Liam’s arm, he whispers, “once when I was little I stole Pick ’n’ Mix from a shop and got so paranoid the police would find me I didn’t leave the house for three days.”

Liam snorts a laugh, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. They still randomly share secrets, in the dark of night or over breakfast or through texts when they’re missing each other. 

Harry’s glad he knows the important stuff, but he loves that he knows that Liam’s sisters used to dress Liam up in his mum’s clothes and have tea parties and Liam was scared of Louis when he first met her and if he was any animal it would be a cow to see if he could stand back up after falling over. 

“The first time a boy kissed me it turned out to be a dare and he punched me after,” Liam says and Harry frowns, lifting his head up to look at Liam’s face. “My sisters found out and they cornered him at school and scared the living shit out of him. Pretty sure he wee’d himself.” 

“What was his name?” Harry asks. “Not that I’m going to track him down and give him a batch of poisoned biscuits or anything.” 

“Harry, I was fifteen,” Liam rolls his eyes with an amused grin, “pretty sure I’ve gotten over it, got something much better now innit?” 

“Thought I was ridiculous,” Harry huffs and Liam pinches his side, using a finger under Harry’s chin to guide him up for a sweet, soft kiss.

“You are. As well as annoyingly fit, smart, talented and I have no idea how I got so lucky,” Liam says, sincere as ever, keeping that fire in the pit of Harry’s stomach burning bright, “I love you quite a lot, Harry Styles.”

Harry thinks back to Liam, rain damp and gorgeous that first day in the bakery. Harry can still picture him, immaculate and bewilderingly charming and making Harry smile so hard his cheeks ached and it’s hard for Harry to really comprehend that Liam’s his. Liam’s lovely and hilarious and caring and so, so excited about everything in life that Harry can barely keep him but he’ll keep trying if it means he gets this every day.

Harry presses another soft kiss to Liam’s lips, thumbing at the curve of Liam’s jaw as he watches him for just a moment, takes a mental snapshot of Liam’s face half illuminated by moonlight, smiling up at Harry. He has to be awake for work in five hours, Liam not long after that but the lack of sleep is really, _really_ worth it.

“Love you too,” Harry pauses before he adds, “Muffin Man.”

It startles a laugh out of Liam and he’s digging his fingers into Harry’s side, tickling Harry until they fall off the bed, landing in a tangled heap on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr post [here](http://wearecities.tumblr.com/post/84054472137/to-feel-your-heart).


End file.
